Journal of Unexpected Love
by ixke
Summary: AU: Santana has been dating Jacob for years now. His cousin is the rich, bubbly and extremely gay Brittany. At a party, Santana suddenly realizes that she's in love with Brittany. But Brittany's never had an actual relationship. And Santana is afraid to tell Jacob and the entire family the truth.
1. DAY 2 - VLC

**My first time ever attempt at writing a fanfic ... Let me know what you think !**

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**Day Two.**

_Okay. Breathe. Just breathe. What's the situation? Think about it. Just analyze it and rationalize. It can't be that bad, San_._ I couldn't have made my life worse than that time when I drove mom's car against the wall of our house without telling her I took her car to begin with. So, breathe. And think. What's currently going on in my life? How's my VLC? My Value of Life Criteria._

_Health_. I turned twenty five last week, which was pretty much a big blur and ended up in an ally, puking my guts out. That was semi-okay. I'm still alive, even though my father threatened to kill me when he picked me up and witnessed the state I was in. He's a doctor, he's not that keen about binge drinking. I probably don't need to tell you that. But it's not the worst ever. _Right? Okay, check._

Next, _work_. I'm busy working my ass off on my first job ever as a copywriter. It's hard and I simply have to put up with it, because I'm new to the company and that's just how bosses treat their new employees. We've all been there, I need to suck it up. So, _check_.

Finally_, relationship_s. Relationships. Re-la-tion-ships ... _Oh, boy_. That's where it's all messy. That's the part of my VLC that managed to throw off the balance. I've screwed up pretty badly the day before yesterday when I kissed my best friend. Yeah, like, my best friend ever. She is a girl, by the way and I am _not_ a lesbian. At all. I just really wanted to kiss her and ... I did. That sort of makes me a cheater, because I have a boyfriend. Yeah, seriously involved and loving and ... I know, it's complicated. I screwed up, let's just start there. Or maybe it's just _me_ that's screwed up. Anyhow, I've kissed my best friend and I no longer care about my massive hangover from last week or the cruelty of my job - which is the company of my boyfriend's father to make the situation even worse. Yeah, my loving, caring boyfriend, Jacob, got me the job. Sickening, right? And in a way to thank him, I kiss my best friend. She's a big lesbian, by the way. Bigger than that shorthaired, skinny girl from the L Word. You know, that one who left the hot Latina at the end of season two? She made me watch it, on repeat, for months - nothing else but lesbian drama. Anyway, she's the kind that drags all the straight girls to a corner and makes them believe _they_ want to kiss _her_. And they do - oh, how many have kissed her! How many times my jaw has dropped by the sight of men obsessed women throwing themselves at her feet without she ever even asked them. She's just some sort magnet, you know. A big 'lesbian experimental material' magnet. Wherever we go, chicks just _throw_ themselves at her. It's disgusting and she doesn't mind. No, Brittany doesn't mind being an experiment, because that way it's easy for her. My best friend isn't interested in relationships or commitment. She might even end up having a panic attack simply by thinking about it. The only relationship she has is with me. We've been inseparable since I started dating her cousin, Jacob. Oh - right, forgot to mention that: my boyfriend and my best friend are cousins.

My head is nearly exploding, that's how much I'm thinking about the mess I've created. I'm so horrible. I'm _such_ a horrible person! She never even wanted to kiss me in the first place. I was her only, religiously respected 'don't touch, don't kiss' area. Because best friends don't kiss, she once told me. And she's right, there's a reason why that's an unspoken rule. First of all: I'm straight. But there I went and french kissed her in the middle of a party, when I got all jealous of that beautiful blonde who had been all over her the entire night. I never reacted that way before. I never got jealous before. I don't ever get jealous. Let me tell you: I don't normally pull that kind of crap. Never in my life have I ever thought about kissing _a_ girl, let alone _her_. But that night, man, I could've killed the stunning girl standing in front of her. There was this look in Brittany's baby blue eyes that made me panic like crazy. The look that made it clear that she liked the girl and - I don't know - it practically drove me nuts. So I kissed her. And she kissed me back. And it was so mind-blowingly, freaking good. Did it help that we were both drunk? Probably not, because I wasn't even _that_ wasted. But Brittany doesn't seem to remember anything, at least she hasn't mentioned it yet. She had, like, fifteen shots of tequila, and surprisingly, she was still walking.

God. I feel so bad. It wasn't just a kiss to keep my best friend all to myself. I wasn't jealous of a random tramp trying to steal away my _bestie_. No, I felt my stomach flip like I was reliving the wildest part of a roller coaster over and over again when I tasted her tongue. And my mind can't analyze what that means. But that's not even the worst part. No, the worst part, let me tell you, is that I can't even talk to my best friend about it.

So I decided to take it day by day. I'm on a twenty four hour agenda from now on. First thing's first and the first thing today: get out of bed, get dressed and get to work.

I close the diary that's positioned on my lap and follow my plan. Jacob's in the kitchen and ever since I kissed his cousin, I've been too afraid to look him in the eyes. _Coward!_ He has no idea that something's going on, because he's a guy. A guy who has been having a lot on his mind at the company for the last couple of months, so he's too busy to notice a change in my behavior.

All cleaned up and ready for work, I silently appear next to him. He's obsessively reading the business section of the newspaper when he takes a second to kiss me on the cheek.

"Have a nice day, hun." is the only thing he says.

Not that much of a morning person, really. He was such a lovely person when we met. Out of all the beautiful people in the room, he targeted me. He winked and screwed on the typical mysterious half smile on his adorable face and _BAM_ - I was sold.

I nod and stare at my fingers in a way to avoid the possibility that he might look me in the eyes. Then I take off and bundle up my purse and my messed up feelings. He normally drives me to work, because his office is located at the building next to me, but today, his days starts with a business brunch at a hotel downtown. It offers some distance, some freedom to _not_ talk about feelings and anything relationship-related. Thank God, he's a guy. As my back presses against the soft driver's seat of my small, charming car, the rear view mirror staring back at my dark brown eyes hands out free reality checks.

_You are not okay_, it tells me. _You are anything but okay_. _Get your act together and talk to your best friend. Fix this shit - sooner than later before you hurt Jacob._

The fingers of my right hand reposition a lock that's terrorizing my face and the rest of my black, long haircut when a troubled sigh escapes my mouth. Then, I start my car. The day has officially begun. Twenty four hours, we can do this. _You've done worse._

_Yeah - like that time you kissed you bestie ..._


	2. DAY 3 - The first time I saw her

**Day Three.**

The first time I ever saw her, we were both at the university's local coffee shop. I walked in to grab myself my daily alternative for a decent breakfast, when my eyes got drawn to that bubbly personality sitting at the end of the counter. She was anything but me in the morning. I just made it through the first hours of the day by mumbling and growling at people. Her blonde hairs were pulled together in a messy ponytail and her slim, gorgeous body sat up straight as she was busy debating on the phone. The thing that kept me staring at her curiously and completely unnoticed, was the fact that she seemed to be looking for a place and opportunity to organize a food fight for one of her closest friends called Tina. At least, that's how she explained it to the other person on the phone. As I was waiting patiently in line for my turn, I heard how she tried to be convincing enough to pull it off. I don't know _who_ it was, but she clearly had no success, not even after three minutes of begging and pleading. Her friend had a bucket list she wanted to fulfill before she turned twenty five, she said. That happened later that week and Brittany wanted to make it memorable. It was dead cute.

"Come on, it's just a food fight. I'll clean it up afterwards." she tried again.

The other person probably expressed her doubt about that and I witnessed the change on her face: "Yeah, you're right, I won't."

Instead of going to class right away, I stayed for another half an hour, because I wanted to know how this would end and - truth be told - another coffee would taste delicious. She called five other numbers, but kept getting the same answer. _No_. The cuteness on her face every time she had to give up on her current attempt, was almost killing me. But she was persistent and I weirdly liked that a lot about her. Sadly, after a while, there was no time left to stay any longer, so I got up from the spot where I was being a total stalker and went to class while she just kept searching for other numbers to call. When Jacob introduced her to me at a family dinner later on, I immediately recognized her. She was the girl from the coffee shop, with the obsession to find her friend the perfect gift - how could I forget? As she shook my hand for the first time ever and intriguingly repeated the name Jacob had just told her, she told me how nice it was to meet me. Her skin was the softest I ever touched.

"Did you ever find it?" I asked her straight away, bluntly skipping all the pleasantries.

She frowned and weirdly smiled at Jacob in a way to figure out what I was talking about. She didn't recognize me at all, that was obvious.

"Excuse me?"

"The food fight. At the coffee shop, some months ago, you were looking for a place to have a food fight. I'm sorry if this freaks you out or anything, but I happened to be there that day and I overheard and ... I'm just curious, but not in a stalkerish kind of way, I promise."

Her nervous face softened and a cute half smile appeared. I was rambling. She was intrigued, I could tell.

"I did. I did find a place. It was the best party ever. So cool that you remember that ... and also strangely weird."

I still see that proud face in front of me every time I meet her for some coffee in that local coffee shop. It's her face of joy and self-consciousness. Typically Brittany, really. She's always excited about something. That's why today is different. Today, she carries one of those faces that troubles me and I can't stand it. After she's done telling me about her rough day, I can't help but pulling her in an comforting embrace to cheer her up. The look in her blue eyes is so sad and desperate that it nearly breaks my heart. If a dying puppy was sitting next to her, she'd still steal all the attention with that troubled expression on her face. This action always does the trick: once her fragile body is close to mine, it can relax again. And it does, there's the sound of massive relief when she exhales and puts her head on my shoulder. We've been best friends for two years now. We're practically inseparable - even worse than Siamese twins. Somehow, she's the best thing that ever happened to me. I call her every single day and when I don't find the time, she panics and rushes to my house to see if I'm okay. We have movie nights in our pajamas, where we discuss anything but serious matters of life and only make it three whole minutes into the movie before we start coming up with other random, funny things to do. Her house's a mess thanks to our numerous, spontaneous food fights. She does seem to have a thing for that - not that I think about it. And sometimes, when it's late or when we're both too hammered to speak another word, I fall asleep in her massive, soft, welcoming bed and she tucks me in so I won't get cold. So, obviously, as soon as she's depressed, I'm here. And that's happening right now.

_God, she smells so good_. Her blonde, long hairs smell so good. Her hands are wrapped around my neck and even though mine were perfectly placed on each side of her hips, I feel the need to let them slip even further and pull her closer against me so I can put my arms around the whole of her back. We don't move at all, or talk, we just stand here and enjoy each other for a minute. It's quiet in the living room and the cosy light in the corner shows our silhouettes on the carpet floor. It's like we're one great person, with two heads and four legs. There's nothing else to be seen besides this big, black stain on the floor, no spaces or little rays of light in between our upper bodies. After a while, I realize how awkwardly long our hug is lasting and I need to blink a couple of times before I can manage to pull myself together again. I just found a way to confuse my mind even more, now, thank you very much.

"Are you okay?"

She nods and her chin moves up and down next to the side of my neck. A silent whisper runs along my skin, which makes me tremble instantly: "I am now."

I pull my body away from hers because I'm getting even more confused and meet her eyes. She's been tearing up, I can tell. Affection does this to her. One of my fingers makes sure that no tear will wander down her cheek. Her hands slip back from my neck and make their way all the way over my arms to the tips of my fingers. That's where she holds on to me for the rest of the conversation.

"It's just a bad day at college, babe. Tomorrow will be better." I try to comfort her.

"Will it?"

She seems unconvinced and extremely tired and that causes me to mischievously smirk at her: "This is not the moment to doubt my excellent expertise."

I can be a cocky person, to be honest.

"In what? What you just said makes no sense at all, you know?" is her remarkable quirky response.

I nod and smile confidently. I do know that, but if it helps to make her smile, that's okay by me. When I look down, I see two of her fingers playing with my left thumb and it's dead cute. Truth is, I actually _like_ it. But I need to be careful, because this is getting out of hand. I can't be that most important person for her. She needs to find one on her own, because look at what it has made me done. I'm with Jacob, I'm _his_ most important person. He needs me just as much as she does. But she keeps running to me when she has a problem and it's not that I don't like it or that I don't want to take care of her, but I'm afraid she might get too attached to me - or is it the other way around? When my eyes find their way to her pretty, pink mouth, our intoxicated kiss flashes through my mind. I remember the touch of her tongue against mine. It was so soft and warm and ... skilled. Jacob never kissed me like that before. He has no clue how to kiss passionately. But let me tell you: she does, even when she is terribly drunk and has no idea which person she's kissing. I remember that I almost wanted to caress her boob, because the alcohol caused me to be curious and _anything but_ restrained. Thank God, I didn't do that. Just imagine!

"I need to go." I tell her.

"Why?"

I avoid her unhappy look and grab my stuff as fast as I possibly can. That memory of me wanting to touch her breasts totally freaked me out.

"Jacob's waiting. We're going out to dinner."

_She'll never believe me, it's only 5 pm._

"Can I join?" she wants to know.

My body freezes and in a panicking way, I decline her request: "No!"

It's too loud to sound normal. My squeaking voice makes the reaction too overreacted, which freaks her out a little bit. She tags along all the time, actually. And it's always me who invites her, much to Jacob's annoyance. He gets irritated by our constant girl talk and over-affectionate act.

"It's a romantic thing. He wants a romantic, candle light evening tonight."

It's a big fat lie, but she doesn't know that. She simply nods, then turns her back at me to put on some wireless headphones. She likes to dance around the house with loud music invading her ears, ruining every chance she'll ever get to grow old without ending up being deaf. She normally does it in her underwear, though, right after waking up. Oh, her underwear. Those pretty, pink panties and her tight, white shirt. An aroused feeling invades my body. _Oh, my .._. This is my cue to leave. Jacob's not going to be home for hours, but I don't mind. I can't allow myself to think about kissing her all the time, so I simply can't be around her right now. It was a one time thing: I was jealous and I didn't like the girl that was with her, that was it. I just wanted her to go away. Who cares that I loved the way she kissed me? Who cares that it made my lady parts tingle? _Wait, what? For the love of God, Santana, stop thinking about it. Leave, now_.


	3. DAY 8 - Three bottles of wine

**Day Eight**

She has called me five times in the last hour. I didn't answer once. I'm at Jacob's today - I'm always at Jacob's. My parents haven't properly seen me since I started dating him two years ago. We just live here, together, at his house.

I need to clear my head. Last night, we all went out to dinner and she crawled next to me on the long, wooden bench. I was starving when I got to the restaurant but as soon as I felt her warm body next to mine, I froze up and not a single piece of food got to pass my throat. She makes me so very nervous that I can't handle it anymore. Jacob can no longer touch me - luckily, he thinks I'm just anxious for a presentation that's due next week at work. It isn't. It's the fact that I can't stop thinking about that night, at the party. And yesterday, she was being extra sweet and nice to me. It's nothing remarkable, really. We're best friends. We've always been overly affectionate around each other. But it never made me nervous before. She goes around telling the entire world how wonderful and special I am, but all of a sudden something has changed inside of me and my heart keeps battling with my mind about the true meaning behind all of her precious compliments. The organ fed by love keeps convincing me that I'm not being an idiot, that what I feel might make sense, while the organ that's fed by reason really wants to smack me over the head with a chair. When Jacob quickly kissed me on the mouth as I got up to go to the restroom, I could've sworn that she turned her head, so she didn't have to see it. But a couple of seconds later, she noticed a cute blonde waitress and all she could talk about was how she'd like to take the lady home with her. That pissed me off like crazy, to be honest. Jacob brought along one of his best friends, chubby Carl, the lovely guy that I adore, but sadly, he took away every possibility of me avoiding _her_ by cuddling up with Jacob and trying to ignore my conflicted feeling for Brittany. The more wine we drank, the more she pulled herself closer towards me on the hard bench we were seated on. She held my hand - like she had done a thousand times before - but this time it felt different. I could feel every little movements her skinny fingers made on my skin. It send shivers through my body, on a mission to make me choke. Seven days before. Seven simple days before I kissed her and she didn't remember. When the awkward night was over, Jacob and I left the restaurant last. She hugged me long and intensely when she got called up to join a party and it made me experience desire that soaked all the way through my bones. I couldn't let go, even if I wanted to, so she was the first one to pull away from the embrace that let her pounding heart vibrate against my chest. Her skin smelt like red wine, probably because she spilled half of her glass over her sleeve an hour before. Typically Brittany when she's drinking. Her hands grabbed both sides of my face and she smiled adorably and I was lost in that instant.

"See you tomorrow, _bestie_." she promised.

All blushing and stuttering, I smiled and nodded. How was it possible that a grownup, confident woman like myself had turned into such a train wreck of a person? Then, out of nowhere, she planted a quick and joyful peck on my lips and the gravity seemed to slam me to the ground. It was her playful way of saying goodbye, she did it many times before. I wish she didn't right there, though. I wish she didn't because after that, I couldn't feel my legs for hours. I couldn't get the taste of her lips off of mine, even though I washed them and rubbed them with soap. When Jacob fell asleep next to me in bed, for a second, my heart wished it was her.

So no, today I'm not returning her calls. Not until I finally figure this out. Not before I have an explanation ready to face Jacob. Another bottle of wine gets cracked and it's not even noon. The only thing that makes time pass is my constant pacing up and down the room, completely taken over by my thoughts. My mind's trying to convince my heart that I'm just overanalyzing things. That all the hugs and kisses and funny whispers are normal, that they've always been there. We're just best friends. Sure, the kiss happened, but it was a mistake, like I'd made many, many mistakes before. I had kissed many ugly dragons and fake Prince Charmings before I found Jacob. This was just me feeling guilty, this was me overreacting and panicking because I cheated. For the love of God, I'm usually anything but insecure and scared. I'm fierce. I'm the fiercest woman alive. A firm knock on the door frees me from all the stress. Maybe it's the package I'm expecting, Jacob's birthday present. I fix my hair and pull my favorite T-shirt a little bit down before making my way to the giant hallway. The second the big front door opens, my heart simply stops beating, because it's Brittany who has found her way to Jacob's house.

"Oh, God." is the startled, squeaking reaction that escapes my mouth.

The glass of wine almost slips out of my hand. She frowns and something tells me that she's mad at me. When she makes her way through the door - without being invited in - I put a gigantic step backwards, just to make sure that our bodies won't touch.

"W- what are you doing here?" I stutter.

I follow her all the way back to the living room, where she observantly checks the place for Jacob's presence. I know she's looking for him, so I decide to help her out a bit.

"Jacob's not here."

After that, a sip of wine gets taken in. I am deadly nervous about her being here. I mean, she's wearing that super hot dress that accentuates her boobs - not to mention her perfect round ass - and those killer heels aren't helping at all. And there's a couch. And I'm extremely horny today. But she's mad at me. She's super mad at me and I haven't decided if that raises her level of hotness or not. It probably does. _Yeah, it does_. My body already starts to shiver when random, unwanted thoughts of angry sex with her run through my mind. _Stop it! Stop thinking about her that way, Santana!_

"You're avoiding me."

She's right. But I unconvincingly shake my head and take another slug of wine. _God, it tastes so good_. Then, I notice her muscular, bare arms. _How would Brittany taste?_ _Stop it, Santana! Seriously. _The whole drinking in the morning thing probably doesn't really help me cope. Surprisingly, there are literally no words coming out of my mouth. I'm always the person to talk and explain every little detail, but today, I clearly woke up completely mute. She has no idea what's going on, that much I'm sure of. I can just tell her I'm having an argument with Jacob and that'll be it. Piece of cake!

"San, I know you kissed me the other night."

_Fuck that piece of cake._ My body freezes while she just casually stands there, arms crossed and one foot in front of the other. Her annoyed face scares me shitless. Another long, big draught and the glass is now empty. She approaches me to confiscate the object from me and in a strange way of reacting, my body backs away from hers.

"That's what this is all about, isn't it?" she wants to know as soon as she realizes how nervous her presence is making me. "That's why you've been acting all weird and distant."

I nod, the first reaction I've given her in quite a while. But I gather my thoughts for a second and decide to take a chance.

"I thought you didn't remember that part of the night."

She smirks, without being really pleased about any of this, and shrugs: "I didn't know it'd be important, so I didn't bring it up. I mean, if you feel like getting your mack on with someone and I happen to be around, I couldn't care less. Although, I do have the 'don't kiss friends' rule. I thought I told you about that."

My heart drops to my feet as I listen to the words she's saying. So I was imagining all of it? It wasn't a mutual feeling?

"But it clearly confuses you. I mean, ever since, you freeze the moment I touch you."

Ironically, she happens to touch my arm at the exact same time her words come out and, as she predicted, her stroking startles me. She's getting more and more confused by my behavior.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you kissed me, didn't you? Because I've had quite some drinks that night, but I don't remember being the one to make the first move. I mean, I shouldn't be apologizing for attacking you or something, or should I?"

Quickly, my head moves from left to right.

"No, Brittany, relax. It's not that. It's not ..."

I try to explain, but the words just won't come out the way I want them to. How do I tell her? How can I possibly tell my best friend that I _like_ like her? My trembling hands find their way to her upper arms. All I can think of is how good she feels. How soft her skin is. How my fingers want to caress the texture of it. She just looks at me, confused and hurt. This isn't a way to treat your best friend, I know that. Her beautiful blue eyes soften as she's realizing how badly I'm struggling to put it all into words. There are fresh bouquets of roses on the living room table and they smell great, but that's nothing compared with the scent of her perfume that's now starting to drive me crazy. My curious eyes inspect her bare shoulders and start a fascinated journey all the way to her waist. If only she decided that today was a perfect day to wear some sweatpants and an ugly hoodie. No, it had to be sunny. It had to be that perfect green and black striped dress that ended covering her perfect body. She's starting to notice that I'm not just looking at her - I'm full-on checking her out. My gentle touch has turned into soft squeezing and as much as I try, I can't stop doing it. She frowns and calls out my name to make me stop.

"I'm sorry." I tell her, but none of my movements change.

"What's going on?" she ask with a hint of panic in her voice.

Her hands aren't touching me, they just hang loosely next to her body. I look up to her to find her lost eyes. Her breathing has become a little heavier and I have no idea what that means. She's just looking at me, the same way I was looking at her before. I swallow deep and a crazy urge to kiss her appears. I can't. I can't possibly just kiss her again, in Jacob's house. _Santana,_ _you can't!_

But then I do. I lunge in for a kiss and press my lips against her mouth like I've done it a million times before. At first, she just stands there and doesn't move a muscle. But my attack on her mouth softens and I take her lower lip between mine to play around with it for a second. I breathe out a deep sigh and wait. That's when she starts to react. That's when she suddenly kisses me back, against all my wildest expectations. She places both hands on my cheeks and pulls me in a little bit closer. _It's official: I'm enjoying this way too much_.

The way her tongue suddenly opens my lips half an inch to enter my mouth and taste the inside of me drives me absolutely insane. I've never felt like this before. I get light-headed and need to refocus my balance before she literally sweeps me off my feet. This is the best kiss of my life - even better than the first one we shared. My hands find their way around her waist and as if we've been doing this for years already, and I forget the fact that she's a girl, they start to feel her up a bit. Her warm breath makes me tremble, while the playfulness of her wet kiss allows me to suppress all the confusion from the last couple of days. She's so hot. She's so incredibly hot. I'm getting hornier by the minute, the place between my legs is already soaking. We stay at it for a minute longer, until a familiar sound pulls us back to reality. It's my phone ringing, and the picture of Jacob being displayed as the caller. She backs away from me and takes a brief look at the little, black device on top of the table before letting completely go of me. I honestly don't care if he calls me, I won't be answering after this anyway. But something scares her enormously after she has seen her cousin. She realizes that I'm his girlfriend and withdraws her body from mine, before apologizing.

"I'm sorry, San, I can't ... I have to go. I really have to go now."

I try calling out her name in a way to make her stay and talk about what just happened, but she's gone before my overwhelmed body can even think about putting together a phrase. My hand covers my mouth as I watch her leave. The sound of the ringtone dies out and all there's left in the enormous house is me and my confused feelings. _What just happened? _How could the best kiss of my life just take place, with a girl and by all means not with Jacob? A sneaky smile takes over my entire face.

I'm surprisingly happy considering I found out that I'm in love with my boyfriend's cousin. But I guess those three bottles of wine have something to do with it.


	4. DAY 10 - Tipsy toilet cabin

**Day Ten**

We try not to cross the line two days after we had our strange encounter at Jacob's house. Surprisingly, the place to do that is a party - a random student's night out. As a recent ex-university student, I loyally follow her to the familiar scene. It's the best idea we can come up with to save our intense friendship: just act normal and go on with doing the exact same things we always do. No changes, no weird vibes, no strange behavior. We didn't even talk about the kiss since it happened, we just ignored it, like the first time. Even though that turned out to be a massive failure, our combined unspoken words think that this is the ultimate resolution. But we are wrong, because as soon as that first sip of alcohol touches the tip of my tongue, her lovely, dancing body in the middle of all the festivities is all my eyes are looking at. Shameless, craving, endless _staring_, really. She's wearing silver stilettos and a skin tight purple cocktail dress with a deep cleavage. Her legs are nicely tanned and I seem like that a lot. They match my caramel color now. It accentuates her muscled calfs and immediately gives away all the time she spends running to keep her entire body in such great shape. Her hairs are swaying from left to right and it's disturbingly hot. I mean: how can swaying hair turn me on like this? _What is wrong with you, Santana? _I need to swallow a couple of times to process before I finally realize that nobody in this room will save me tonight. I simple have to accept that I'm screwed. Truth be told, after what just happened, she should've known better than to wear that excellent piece of clothing that dazzles everyone who's around, but somehow, she thought it was an okay idea to expose so much of her naked skin to me. Such a tremendous tease, such a fashionista. Typically, I'm the one that wears the dress, but tonight, I put on some jeans and a top. Yes, who would've guessed, right? I made an effort to dress _down_. And now she does this to me?

Around midnight, we're both tipsy enough to finally get our act together and put aside that strange feeling. She calls me 'kissy mouth' to make fun of me and entwines our hands to drag me to the dance floor, our favorite area in this place - apart from the bar. The room is filled with intoxicated students, but sadly, none of our friends are here. I haven't seen them all week and that's starting to annoy me - even though spending time with some of them usually annoys me just as much. Even though I graduated a couple of months ago, I don't experience being left out. On the contrary, I've always been an expert at partying and I've decided to make an example of me. _Watch and learn, suckers. Watch and learn._ The thrill of the up tempo music is enough to magically put an enjoying smile on both of our faces. God, we love music. We love the rhythm, the pleasure it's capable of bringing, the vibration of the sound waves under our feet and the liberating drips of sweat it drags out of your body. I sing along without being scared that anyone can hear me and she just dances as if she's born to do so. She is, actually. Just look at her. She's an excellent dancer. I've never seen anyone move the way she does - it's mesmerizing.

We get pulled back a little bit too far in our old routines, though, because after some songs, she lures me closer to her body and brushes it against mine as one of her favorite numbers reverberates through the boxes. She's so excited that her infectious, joyous screeching causes me to laugh along. Her face lights up like an innocent child that got released in a toy shop, because music _is_ her ultimate toy. My hands end up on each side of her hips, while she repeatedly sinks down to the ground and seductively rises again in front of me, chest pressed out explicitly so she looks _even more_ sexy. A serious expression flames up her face, while she's biting her lower lip. Music and dancing can literally take her away from this world. They absorb her with every heart beat and every dance move that goes by. I find myself staring at her boobs. _Damn it, look away, Santana_! I do, and find myself searching for an alternative. Everyone around me is ecstatic, but the more her impressive twins hover along my already taken over by goosebumps skin, the more my heart starts to pound like crazy. I'm getting turned on by this, that much is sure. She has no idea what's going on, because this is typical Brittany behavior on a night out. We always dance like this. It's me. It's me who simply can't put aside the things that happened between us.

The little drops of sweat that appear on her forehead start gliding down at an impossible slow pace. She looks breathtakingly beautiful, this exhausted and stuck in her dancing groove. She has that naughty expression on her face, where she squeezes her eyes a little bit tighter and licks her bottom lip that makes the flesh sparkle. When it finally gets too much for me to handle - that urge to grab her and kiss her passionately on the mouth - my hands let go of her waist as if they are on fire. I catch a deep breath. Why is she so goddamn sensational? Why do I feel this way about my best friend? I turn around and run across the room to find the restroom. Perplexed by what just happened and ignorant about the cause, she follows me, calling out my name in a desperate attempt to make me come back.

As soon as I escape inside of a free toilet cabin, I close the door behind me and press my back against it. _In and out. In and out, Santana_. It smells really bad in here, but I don't care. Air is air. Whether it has the smell of urine or not, it allows me to relax again. She enters the room a few seconds later and repeats my name until I finally answer. There are a shitload of people here with us, but she doesn't care.

"What's wrong?" she asks while discovering that the door I'm hiding behind remains closed.

"Let me in!" she urges while pressing against it and knocking at the hard wood.

I ignore the request. When she finally realizes what's going on, the ignorant tone in her voice disappears and it gets replaced by concern. She's caving.

"Don't do this, San. It was going so well." she pleads.

It's obvious that she's afraid. Afraid of what all of this means. I can hear it in the trembling. She has no right to be afraid - I'm normally the fearless one. Look at me now, I'm a little lamb. This isn't me. I get to be afraid about the fact that I'm afraid!

"Yeah, for you." I react reluctantly through the wooden door. "It hasn't been going well for me since that day I kissed you."

I don't even care that other people might hear me through the loud chaos.

"Santana!" she shuts me off like she doesn't need to be reminded.

It's not like her to be this dominant. My nervous mouth sucks in my upper lip and my mind starts going into overdrive. _Stop analyzing. Just stop thinking for a second. Start being the confident bitch again_. After some silent moments, the lock slowly opens. She crawls inside of the cabin with me and closes the door behind her. My eyes are avoiding hers, but she kneels a little bit and forces me to look at her. Baby blue eyes that make me melt. _Help_.

"I'm sorry." I utter, my eyes filling up with emotion.

It's the painful truth. I am so sorry about all of it. One of my fingers tries to save the perfection of my mascara. This was never supposed to happen. She lays both hands on my shoulders and rubs my skin softly to make me feel better. But she doesn't, she makes the situation even worse. That touch of hers instantly reverses all the coping I just did.

"Don't!" I ask her as I shrug to pull back from her. "This is _exactly_ the problem."

"Me touching you?" she asks as she quickly withdrawals her hands from me.

"No, the fact that I'm feeling all of these things as soon as you put your hands on me."

She doesn't react and I quickly try to explain a little better. "The fact that I want to kiss you and hold you _every time_ you are near. And I don't know how to stop it, Brittany. I have no fucking clue how to stop it."

My voice cracks and I hate it when that happens. Her mind's figuring out a way to give me some advice, but she seems just as stuck in the moment as I am. But then her eyes slowly soften and that adorable half smile appears. I can tell that she's almost too afraid to mutter the words.

"Then ... _don't_ stop it."

My heart stops beating right that second. What does that mean? Because to me, it feels like a _go_ - like she's allowing me to feel whatever I am feeling. She's trying to help me by encouraging me, like she always does. Does this mean that I can kiss her? Is this her disturbed idea of offering me a way to figure out my mind - because let me tell you: Brittany S. Pierce is capable of coming up with crap like that.

I know I shouldn't, but all I want to do is kiss her. The tension between the vandalized walls is so present that I can almost grab it with my hands. But instead of trying to catch things that are untouchable, I cup her face with my hands and lean over instantly to kiss her. She reacts before I realize what I am doing and switches places with me to press me up against the door. The little cabin gets shaken up, but not a single, drunk person in the room gives a fuck. She's kissing me. She's kissing me and it feels perfect. Her tongue plays around with mine, while I allow my hands to grab her back of her hair tightly. It'll end up getting messy, but who cares? Oh, her tongue. The vibe that flows through my entire body, all the way down to my toes, makes me feel week. The panting flowing from our mouths is heavy and it drives me mind-blowingly crazy. Her hands find their way down my back, until they reach the hem of my top. That's where her fingers disappear underneath the fabric and softly slip up my bare skin. _She's going to touch my boobs. She's going for my twins. I'm in the middle of a public bathroom, experiencing my first lesbian encounter with my very best friend and she's about to grope my boobs. _I think about the lack of romance or the fact that this is nothing like all the things I imagined it to be. It's actually exactly like every single hook up with a guy I ever had. It's how Jacob and I ended up being a couple, actually. Then I decide:I'm not even sorry. My soft moaning is an unexpected reaction that I can't stop, while I wrap my arms around her neck to make sure she won't leave this spot. Her teeth press themselves in my bottom lip and it hurts so much that I don't even care - because the hurting is exhilarating and I like the feeling. We pull each other impossibly closer and the constant pressure of her hips against mine turns my core into an alternative swimming pool. Her center is moving up and down, automatically, with an uninterrupted rhythm setting the tone. She heaves a sigh of relief when our lips part and my forehead touches hers to recover from the moment. _God, I want to have sex with her so badly. I want to have sex with my best friend._ Her hands do not do what I thought they would, though, they are respectfully caressing the upper side of my waist, nothing more. Still, I'm hornier than I ever was when I made out with Jacob and he did touch my boobs.

"What are we doing?"

I'm not sure that I want her to answer that question. What is she offering me here? She shakes her head unknowingly and instead of looking me straight in the eye, she analyzes the situation by staring at my chest. I'm losing her. I'm losing the connection we just shared and I desperately need it to come back.

"Brittany?"

She snaps out of her trance and finds me again. Those blue eyes _find_ me again. My fingers squeeze the flesh of her neck. There's a seductive and dangerous spark that's gleaming from her eyes.

"Can I kiss you again?" she asks adorably confused.

Her question is so beautifully innocent that it puts a gentle smile on my face. This is the part where it dawns: she doesn't know what she's feeling - this is scaring her as much as it's scaring me. I nod, because _yes_, she can _always_ kiss me! She can kiss me a million times and I wouldn't mind. Even if the kissing would cause my lips to crack or I could no longer take steady, necessary breaths (you know, in order to stay alive), I'd rather suffer or die than ask her to stop. A tender brush and thereby followed nipping of her lips on mine tells me that our secret encounter in the toilet has come to an end. Now what? What's the next step? Her fingers knead the skin of my waist.

"Take me home." I beg her. "I want you to take me home."

"And then what?" she wants to know.

I guess she's too afraid to just assume that she'll get lucky tonight.

"Then I want you to make me come."

She nearly chokes as I blatantly, yet seductively say the words. How did she end up being the shy lady lover? Did I just find my inner bitch back? And is my deepest inner bitch actually a confident lesbian?

"Mult- ... tiple ... times." I whisper with my tongue half down her left ear.

I love the way she smells. The shiver starting from her neck is visible and that makes me smile. She swallows deeply and asks me if I'm sure. I'm not, because a part of me is thinking about Jacob. I'm cheating on him as we speak. That same part is quickly comparing this arousing, unbearable aching sensation in my stomach to the tickling feeling that I get when I'm with him and it doesn't even begin to compare. But then I admit to myself that I _am_ sure: I _do_ want her to take me home. I want her to take off my clothes and put her naked legs in between mine. I want her to kiss my nipples and massage my breasts. I want her to swirl her fingers over my skin, all the way down to my thighs and soak me with sloppy kisses before she enters my wet core. _You've obviously been thinking about this way too much, Santana._

We decide to leave. But all of a sudden, I see Jacob's face in front of me again and my entire body freezes.

"What's wrong?" she asks me as she was already heading out the opened cabin door and got pulled back by my stiff twist.

"I can't do this to Jacob." my mouth mumbles in a way to try and explain what's racing through my mind.

Her turned on expression quickly fades. He's her cousin. Her one and only cousin. That seems to be deeming, because the expression on her face changes the moment I pronounce his name. He's crazy in love with me, he has been for two years now.

In the middle of all the other girls in this restroom, for everyone else to see, I desperately kiss her again - soft and intense. I want her to remember this loving touch. She puts her hand on my face and I put my mine on top of hers.

"I'll call you." is the promise I make after our lips split.

Once again, we are face to face. I get a clear view on those adorable freckles covering her nose. Her fingers clench the front part of my hair and for the first time ever, I see her being vulnerable in front of a girl she's romantically involved with. And it's _me_. She doesn't want me to walk away from her. I wasn't imagining this at all. She's been feeling the exact same thing ever since that first kiss. She's just a better actor than I am. A silent whisper almost doesn't make it out of my mouth, but I insist it does.

"I need to go now. You need to let go of me."

She nods with the necessary lack of persuasion, because her fingers can't seem to release my hair. My forehead pushes her back a little bit and finally, she loosens her grip.

"Call me."

I smile because it sounds like she's begging. Brittany S. Pierce never begs anyone.

"I'll call you."

Out of nowhere, she transforms back to this self-secure lesbian on a mission to conquer the night. It's an act she puts up in front of all these people and I don't even mind: it's ravishingly sexy.


	5. DAY 13 - Rebound

**I hope all of you are enjoying this story. Feel free to leave a review to let me know what you really like, what might be missing, what's on your mind, what you want to see happen next ... x**

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**Day Thirteen**

A thin ray of light sheds a surprisingly clear view on her face as the squeaking door continues to open. Maybe it's me. Maybe I immediately recognize her in a blink of an eye. That cute, perfect whole of her is probably as bright to witness because I remember every little, adorable freckle decorating her face and I don't need the light to remind me of her perfection - because I know every shape of her thirteen different smiles and seven different frowns even in the dark of night. No, let me tell you: I require absolutely no rays of light to let me know that she's here. I sense it. I feel it in my bones when she's near.

"I knew I'd find you here." she whispers.

Her soft eyes pierce through mine in the darkness that's filling this familiar place. It's a lie. She's probably been searching in four other parts of town before she ended up here. I know her too well. Still, she gets away with being cute. The energy in this abandoned room changes as soon as she approaches my shaken and crawled up body. I _can't_ handle her perfection, I _can't_ handle the intoxicating smell of her perfume. Above all, I _can't_ stand her adorable sweetness. We're the only two people in the forgotten pool house at the premises. Sometimes, it's my favorite place on earth. Such a quiet resort. Calmness simply overcomes you here. Nobody else hangs around here anymore, because the interior is outdated and the heating doesn't work really well. I don't mind. A simple blanket, a bottle of wine and it's the best hang out area in the world, if you ask me. There's literally a pool in the middle of the room - why would you ever turn your back on that? I look up and find her eyes. She's worried. She's asking me - without a single word escaping her mouth - if I'm alright. It's obvious that she cares about me, or she wouldn't have been here.

"What happened? Why are you crying?"

That tremble in her voice makes me shiver. She's concerned because I haven't answered her calls the last three days, nor have I texted her back. Yeah, I've been heartless. We've never _not_ talked for more than a day. I'm not looking at her anymore, all I do is stare in front of me, to face the wall that's not talking at me. _Not_ talking at me seems wonderful, right now, really. I've been doing it with myself the last couple of hours.

"I'm breaking up with Jacob tonight."

I say it with numbness in my voice, as if I've told a million people already. But I haven't. She's the first one to hear. She's the only one that _needs_ to hear.

"_Why_?"

I grin, even though there's nothing funny about all of this. She makes it sound as if she doesn't know the reason already. Even worse, she makes it sound as if she's defending Jacob in all of this - like he doesn't deserve to be dumped. I guess he doesn't. He's a good guy. But good guys shouldn't be treated this way. Instead of asking me if I am alright, she just walks over to me and kneels down beside me. Her knee touches mine and that triggers me to finally refocus my stare. There are leftovers of tears that ran down my face a couple of minutes ago. I've been too exhausted to wipe them away, so she does that for me with a gentle, light stroke. Her hands are quickly softly petting my hair and a relaxing feeling finally takes over my body. Instantly, her behavior changes.

"What do you need?"

She's offering whatever I'll ask. She's just that kind of person. This family has more money than I'll ever have, if I would ask her for a car, she'd call up all dealers in the country right now. But that's not what I want. I just want to taste her lips. Screw that, I want _more_ than that. My mind is rewinding precious and wonderful moments that I ever spent with Jacob. He's been such a great boyfriend - always put me first. But I see her loving face and I want to give up on all of the things I know in an instant. My mind can't cope: _that version _of Brittany has been my best friend for years and not a single moment in that time spent together, I've ever thought about her this way. And now, all of a sudden, I see this new possibility. I see how she might be the best thing that happened to me romantically. As soon as her soft, desiring fingers touch mine, I freeze and my mind shuts out all the doubts, all the negative reactions and turn outs. I know exactly what I want - what I need.

"I need you to be my rebound fuck."

Brittany's completely dazzled by my request. Her eyes open up immensely - she even blushes - and for a second, she has no clue what to say. This is something she'd never expected me to ask her - or be as honest about.

"Okay." she finally agrees with a charming stutter.

Her blonde hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail and I like it. It sheds a clear view on her perfect face. She doesn't smile, she doesn't even ask me why I came up with the ridiculous idea. She doesn't do anything. My heart's supposed to skip a beat, but there's nothing. I feel numb.

"See you later?" I ask, completely emotionless.

I make it sound like a business deal. Her pretty, gorgeous head nods and I get up on my feet to leave the room where I've spend the last few hours of this day, thinking things through. _What have you just done?_

I need to find Jacob. I need to tell him that it's over. Because it's really, really over.

On my way to Jacob's house, she texts me to make sure that I was being serious. It's a hesitant whole of words, but it's clear that's she's afraid for what might come. For a girl that has slept with all the girls in town already, she's being awkwardly nervous about it. I am sure, that's what I answer: "Tonight, I'll be yours. All of me."

I am _so_ sure that I'm on my fucking way to end the sweetest relationship I've ever had. Because I may be a bitch sometimes, but I refuse to be a cheater. Sure, when I was younger I didn't care. But Jacob's better than that. He's better than all the ugly frogs from high school and all the idiots that I thought I was in love with.

His car is parked in front of the door and my automatic pilot takes over. Key in the door, wipe my feet, enter the living room. He's on his laptop, finishing work. He's always finishing work.

"Hi." he says in a lovely voice when his mind finally flashes back to reality.

I guess he had a wonderful day at the office. I notice in the way his half smile takes over half of his face. I'm officially the one that'll turn that feeling around. He pats on his upper leg in a way to lure me, but I pretend to not notice and walk across the room to the giant window that has the best view in the world. When you look outside, you find a forest and stables and meadows where the foals chase after their mothers. During summer, you can easily predict that every single member of the family will be gathered around the massive swimming pool that's east of the house before even having a look. And when you turn your head, there's a glimpse of Brittany's house. Yes, this view is the best thing about the house.

"I need to tell you something." I say without wasting too much time.

Because wasting too much time would make me think. And thinking would make me panic. And panicking would make me choke. And I can't choke. Santana Lopez _never_ chokes. Except with Brittany. She's the exception. She's always the exception.

Immediately concerned, he closes the laptop to stand up and walk over to me. The seriousness in my voice gives it away: there's something wrong and he senses it. His arms rub up and down my arms and I shiver. It's crazy how he's still not fed up with my crazy behavior all the time.

"What's up?"

He has beautiful, brown eyes that have the same adorable effect as his cousin's and that's a disturbing similarity. I blink, gather my strength and shy away from his forced, caring touch. That whole family of him has some very serious emotional issues and in a way, he constantly tries to make up for that. They all assume to be sweet and lovely, but they are so brainwashed by the financial world they grew up in that it doesn't come natural. Even Brittany suffers from that strange upbringing - with her it translates in her constant sleeping around and in the way she denies any sort of relationship. But with Jacob ... I don't know. It scares me, every single time he switches from strong, _business_ Jacob to caring, understanding Jacob in the blink of an eye. I remember when we first started dating and his family was still a very unknown part of his life to me. Looking back, that Jacob was a complete different person. He was a true gentleman and swept me off my feet with romantic gestures and nice words every day. He softened me up and allowed me to push my bitch back a little bit. I guess his cousin has the same effect on me. Then I met his grandmother and his grandfather. Their coldness startled me. How could people be this emotionless? Later on, his mother and father turned out to be just as cold-hearted. I always assumed that_ I_ was cold-hearted, but they changed my mind about that. I'm overly confident and pretend to be a badass bitch to gain respect and put people in their place when I don't like the way they act or when I feel insecure. Truth be told, I'm the absolute biggest bitch when they treat Brittany bad - always been. But his parents and his grandparents, they just don't know any better. They've grown cold by the icy touch of money and after some time, they couldn't find a single spark of genuine love anymore to invest in the growth of their son/grandson, which translates in his common behavior. I know he's trying. He's trying to prove to me that he is in fact a wonderful person ever since that meeting with his family took place and that he's nothing like his parents. I know he isn't, but sadly, after that night, he no longer felt like he had to hide all the pressure and all the hard work they expect him to do for the company. His life suddenly opened up to me and he no longer cared about the act he put up with. Jacob still remains a lovely person, despite all of that and I love every single part about him. So every now and then, he touches my hand when he thinks I'm PMS-ing or kisses me on the cheek when I feel grumpy for no reason a guy will ever understand. His arms will wrap around my cold body when we go out for a drink and the wind is forcing goosebumps on my skin. He's the perfect guy, really. But not for me, I guess. I need goosebumps from the touch of those fingers, not from the chilly wind. And that's what Brittany does to me, all of a sudden. That's what my best friend does to me and I can never explain why. _His cousin_. I have a perfect plan: simply tell him about my feelings for her. Tell him the truth. He deserves that. I owe him that. I should. I know I should. Tell him how much I'm sorry, because I really am. If the easy way would be a choice, I'd choose it, but there's no easy when it involves breaking someone's heart. The Pierce eyes are staring at me again and force me to look away before I swoon.

"I need to tell you something and you won't like it."

It almost sounds like a promise. This time, I'm not giving in. I'm absolutely sure. It's hard, but it's the right thing to do. _Come on, Santana. You can do this. _How is lying to him any better than telling the truth? You never shy away from telling the truth, that's what causes people to believe that you're a bitch. He deserves to know what's going on - he's been so good for me all those years.

"Are you mad at me?" he asks.

_Oh, God, he hasn't got a clue. Poor thing._ I'm such a terrible person. My courage vaporizes as soon as that scared, cute tremble in his voice reaches my ear. The fingers of my left hand pet the side of his face when I take a deep breath and face him. I can do this. I am a grown woman - I can do this.

"I'm not in love with you anymore."

When my lips slip the words, my heart stops beating. It's nearly a whisper, that's how silent the words leave my mouth. So soft that I doubt he even heard it. My heart beats like crazy - that's how scared I am to see him react. Waiting for the change on his face was my initial plan: I'd just see what to say next after it'd happen - but his face doesn't change at all. Did he not hear me? Was I talking so quietly that he actually didn't understand? What about my plan?

"Jacob, I just told you that -"

"I heard you."

I shut up immediately.

It's recognizable, the common Pierce family face of heartbreak. It's a million times as big as that look on Brittany's face in the toilets when I told her I couldn't go home with her. All the color in his face fades away and all I can do is stand there until he's done processing. My hand slowly disconnects from his skin and it's the best thing to do. I feel so terrible, unlike all the other times I broke up with a guy. I owe him everything. This life, my job, my happiness during the last couple of years. But I can't stay _just_ because I'm thankful. I must leave him because I'm thankful. Nobody should ever stay with a person out of guilt. Setting somebody free is so much worth all the pain.

"You don't love me anymore?"

He sounds like a child that got beat up with a stick. It's not true. He's putting it wrong.

"I _do_ love you, Jacob. I absolutely adore you. You are the best guy I've ever known. But ... I'm not _in_ love with you anymore. I think."

His fragile behavior makes me stutter. Emotional people always make me feel awkward.

"I mean - lately I've been ..."

"So you're not sure?"

Oh, there's hope in his eyes that shouldn't be there. Those words were not the best ones. I shake my head and take a step back, while tears are starting to fill my eyes. I hate when this happens. Dammit, I'm in love with his cousin. He needs to understand that I no longer care for a future with him.

"No, no. Listen to me. I think you are the greatest guy I ever met. You have made my life so much better and you have given me joy and opportunities that I could only dream of. But ..."

It's hard finding words that won't hurt him. But I guess everything I say right now is hurting him.

"I can't see myself growing old with you. I need something else. I need _someone_ else."

Here it is: the perfect opening to mention Brittany. My opportunity to bring up my confusion and feelings for her. This is the moment: this is the bitter pill. But a little twitch in his eyes sets me off.

"Did you tell Brittany about this? Oh, my God, you probably did. She went off and told the entire family before you told me, didn't she?"

He switches the subject so fast that my golden chance is gone. _Fuck_. I shake my head when I hear the strange accusations and grab his right hand to calm him down a little bit.

"No. No." I lie as I see the fear of embarrassment in his eyes.

This isn't even about the fact that I no longer love him. He's so scared of what his family might say. He's so terrified. In his mind, they'll think he's a failure because he couldn't keep this simple, poor, lower class girl by his side. _I can't tell him yet_, I realize_. _He'll never cope with the fact that I'm in love with his _cousin_, right 'll make him panic even more. Imagine what that will do with his self esteem - me leaving him for his cousin, who is a girl, who is living on the same property and sharing the same family name and all?

Suddenly, I'm so glad he doesn't ask me if there's somebody else, because I honestly don't want to lie to him. He should, though. If he gathers his thoughts and thinks about it with a clear mind, he should ask me. The only thing that happens is completely new to me: he starts sobbing uncontrollably. His own feelings are starting to kick in. It's weird, because I don't know if I should comfort him or leave the house to make the feeling less painful. And even if I do stay and put my arms around him, I'm not really good at this - I'll probably say something totally inappropriate or force a terrible joke to make the moment feel less awkward - and it would be a total fail.

"You can't leave me, Santana." he pleads while clutching both of my hands.

That defeated look on his face almost wants me to take back every single word I just said, out of sympathy. But I can't undo them, even if I tried.

"You can't leave me, I need you. I love you and whatever this is, we can work it out, right?"

I no longer fight back when he immediately pulls me closer, trying to hold on to whatever he thinks there's left.

"We've always worked everything out."

He's talking about all the times we had arguments. All the times we fought in the middle of this living room. But the terrible thing is, I kissed his cousin in the middle of this living room. That's something you can't undo, even if you really try. The spot where his fingers are squeezing my upper arms are starting to hurt, but it's okay, it's not his intention to harm me. It's that heart of his that's taking over - just like my heart has taken over by loving Brittany instead of this fragile, wonderful person in front of me. I've never seen him cry. He's the toughest person I know. He's even tougher than _me _when I give Rachel, one of Brittany's best friends, a hard time. But losing me somehow triggers that emotional part of his personality. The part I've never witnessed before all of this.

"I'm sorry." is all I can utter.

There's nothing left for me to say. No possible explanation that will not hurt him even more. So I just shut up. For once in my life, I keep my gab shut and I wait for him to calm down. _You did this to him. You owe him this moment. _


	6. DAY 14 - The manual

**Hi everyone, I'm trying to update as quickly as I can. I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think, please - leave a review ;)**

**This chapter, it's the first time they're having sex! Enjoy ! **

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**Day Fourteen.**

It three in the morning when my body sneaks out of the house without making a single noise. Jacob and I fell asleep in bed. Yes, he begged me to stay with him and spend the night. It's terrible to witness, that hope in the deepest spark in his eyes that remains positive - the one that's convinced that we might make it through all of this. He thinks I just lost my passion and that it's a thing you can recover. He's wrong and I'm too afraid to tell him that there's someone else. I laid next to him for hours, waiting for him to fall asleep, for those puppy eyes to finally close and forget about this day for a tiny while. I've never been this quiet as I make my way out the front door before, but in order to keep him asleep and unaware, I need to do this. I'm literally holding my breath when the door locks behind me. Instead of high heels, I'm wearing the sneakers that usually accompany me to the gym. My jeans and casual shirt betray my passion for fashion tonight, but it doesn't matter at all. _Of course_ I'm going to see her. I promised her this afternoon and she's called me like a million times since I last saw her. Sadly, my phone's been sort of off limits the last few hours, so every time her name popped up on my screen, I declined the call.

The first one to greet me when I enter the bachelorette house is Tubbs, the cat. A heavy meow alerts me of his presence in the dark entrance hall. A few seconds later, his body slides along one of my legs. He's an morbidly obese, grumpy old cat. She told me he's been her best friend ever since she was a little girl. Sometimes she forces to wear adorable, tiny clothes and it's obvious to anyone who isn't her that the pet hates it. But Brittany insists that he doesn't mind being dressed up at all. She's so very wrong. Tubbs has an infinite dull and annoyed look in his eyes every single time I see him - it's always the exact same. But the fat buddy is strangely dead cute. He gets that from his mistress. The tiny feet drag him to the nearby room and I follow the slowly moving tail that's loosely hanging behind his body. Brittany didn't hear me come in, that much is obvious. She dozed off on the couch, while watching one of my favorite programs. The girl has waited hours for me and now it seems that I've missed that precious opportunity to spend some time with her. She's asleep and looks as stunning as ever. Without making too many noises, my feet make their way over to the couch. The little table in front of me is full of champagne bottles, glasses and delicious treats. This is awful: she made such an effort.

When my body hoovers over hers, she doesn't wake up. _Heaven's sake, she's so beautiful. Don't touch her! Don't wake her up._ But quickly, I realize that I can't keep my hands off of her, and frankly: I'm not even trying very hard. I keep caressing the softness of her skin - my fingers keep making their way up and down every inch of her body that's not hidden under the stupid blanket. It's like I can never get enough. As if I'm running out of time to discover her shapes. She must be so very tired, because there's not one little twitch in her eyelids, not one moment she appears to wake up. This might not be the night she planned, but it's perfect to me. I don't need her to talk to me or feed me champagne or kiss me on the lips. I just need her next to me. And tonight, I have the knowledge that she won't leave me for the next couple of hours and that makes me the happiest girl alive. I turn off the television and thereby make every possible sound in the room disappear. Suddenly, her eyelids start to tremble. The lack of musical noises apparently wakes her up.

"Hi." I whisper with a smile taking over my entire face - she has that effect on me. I feel like a teenager around her, lately.

A shameless grin appears the moment she realizes it's me. The corners of my mouth curl all the way up and instantly, nervousness invades my entire body. This is getting too realistic. It's the middle of the night, I need to get up in the morning to go to work and I just sneaked out of my ex-boyfriend's bed to be with her. Quinn, my friend since I was a little girl, would call me crazy, but I know exactly why I came here. So does Brittany.

"Are you tired? Do you want to go to sleep?" I ask.

It'd be okay if she says yes. Watching her sleep all night would be just as perfect. She shakes her head and smacks her lips in order to wake up properly and think about my offer. After that, she snorts loudly, sits up straight and pushes me against the back of the couch to straddle me. She bends over and faces me, our mouths only inches apart. My head is tempted to shrink back, because I don't think we've ever kissed when we were both sober.

"Do you know what I want? I want your clothes." she whispers.

I hold my breath and try to swallow. It's the hardest thing I ever did. Her fingers have disappeared underneath the fabric of my shirt at such a slow pace that another person in the room would never notice what's going on. But we're alone and both very much aware of that. And I am very much aware where her fingers are. She's not looking at me, she's carelessly staring at the part of my body where my shirt is covering my breasts.

"On the floor." she continues.

I'm still not breathing. And she's still talking about the clothes, I guess. Her touch is giving me goosebumps. I want to kiss her so badly. She's so close to me that it'd only take a slight movement.

Her final words are uttered in a menacing tone of voice: "Next ... to ... my ... bed."

_Fuck this, I'm kissing her! _Our lips get pressed together and finally, I am able to breathe again. The freshness of the air pumping through my lungs feels absolutely wonderful, yet fade with the experience of her playful tongue inside of my mouth. I remove the blanket that's in between us, because it's stopping me from pulling her even closer on top of me. _Brittany S. Pierce, you sexy fucking thing_. No wonder every girl in the world throws herself at her feet. I'm doing the exact same thing as we speak.

"Let's go to your bedroom." I suggest, while trying to get some fresh air.

It's a miracle that I'm this straight-forward in all of this. I'm so nervous that I can hear my own heart pound. She nods and pulls me off the couch with her, firmly holding my hand. We don't say a word when we make that awkward walk all the way to the room. This seems very much like a business deal, but it's anything like that. We're just startled by what's happening and don't know how to react. After arriving at the side of the bed, we suddenly burst into laugher.

"This is really, really weird." she says.

Her nose curls all the way up and she put her hand in front of her mouth. I chuckle along and nod.

"I'm sorry, I'm totally nervous. I never thought I'd do this. Definitely not with _you_."

She frowns and snorts: "Thanks a lot, Miss Lopez."

It might have sounded a little bit insulting. My hands start rubbing her upper arms and I try to apologize.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just really ..."

"Nervous."

I nod again. It's dawning: we _both_ are. She has never done this before. Sure, the sex and the nudity and all, but not the connection. She has fucked girls all her life, but she has never _made_ _love_ with one. I'm still touching her. That's all I want to do. Touch and kiss her - all night long.

"How does this work?" I ask while looking at her from the corner of my eye.

My head is bent downwards, because every nerve in my body is too afraid to look up.

"Well, basically, you take off your clothes and we get into bed. Or I can do that for you."

She's very frank about the process.

"Like, unhook my bra and all?" is my spontaneous, ignorant comment.

She smirks and lowers herself to meet my eyes. Her blonde hair is all messed up and it's crazy sexy. I suddenly realize: her blue eyes are the shape of a deer's.

"You're not wearing a bra." she tells me seductively.

"I'm not." I suddenly remember and the left corner of my mouth quickly rises.

She puts one finger on top of my shirt, right where my nipple instantly turns hard as a rock. Her touch makes me gasp for air. She adds another finger, and then another one, and strokes the fabric. Eventually, her entire hand is cupping my breast and its kneading make me bite my lower lip. My mind blacks out and I decide to take off my shirt myself. It's gone before I realize what's happening. She has seen me in my underwear before, in the changing rooms at the gym or when we were having sleepovers. But this is _very_ different. My breasts are uncovered. In front of her and they are so very hard and swollen.

"Are you wearing panties?" she wants to know.

That teasing in her voice is so hot. A slight nod informs her that I didn't forget to put them on when I left. I kiss her again and wrap my arms around her neck. She has regained total control of my breasts and it's amazing. She knows how to please a girl, that much is obvious. She swivels and softly pulls my hard nipples, which cause me to groan foolishly. Her face is beaming, expressing how much she's enjoying all of this. One hand lets go of my chest and sneaks all the way down to my ass. She pulls me closer and brushes her tits against mine. I'm so aroused I might die right now. My tongue licks her lips with pure lust. I'm this close to begging for her to put her hand down my pants, but before I get the chance, she pushes me on the bed. I'm surprised by her action, which adds the fun factor. I giggle, but freeze as soon as I realize what she's doing: her sensational body strips down in front of me and crawls on top of me. The tattoos that normally always remain strategically covered up are now very visible. She has a look in her eyes that I've only ever seen once. It was in that toilet cabin, at that party, when we kissed. She's horny as hell, but holds back so it won't scare me.

"Are you okay?" she wants to know.

It's the typical Brittany adorableness that takes over and it warms my heart. I nod, still not entirely sure what we're doing, but it'll probably come to me. Singing came to me, and I sing quite well now.

"I've never done this before."

"I know." she answers. "You would've told me."

"Yeah, I would. But I mean, I have no clue what two women do when they ... do it."

I feel her naked body breathing in and out. My lips are trembling. My entire skin is trembling.

"I mean, I once saw a porn movie that had two lesbians in it."

"Pretty sure that those women are never actual lesbians." she profoundly mumbles.

I ignore whatever she just said, simply because I didn't pay any attention to it. _Instead_, I continue to ramble.

"But they were doing some nasty things. _Nasty_, I tell you. Now, if you want me to do _those_, I don't think I'm ready for it."

Her right hand cups my face to make me shut up. It works.

"You're terrible, Santana. And did you just admit that you've watched lesbian porn?"

I shake my head. It's not like that. It was one time, when Jacob and I tried something new. It wasn't a success.

"The things I do are nothing like those nasty things you've seen. I'm very gentle."

She kisses the tip of my nose to prove a point. Suddenly, she moves over to the side of my face and she bites my earlobe. I shiver.

"Or I can be very rough if you prefer a wilder approach."

_Wanky_.

I moan softly. _Bam: instantly horny because of what she just said to me in that sexy voice._ I relax again and put my hands on her back. _She's naked,_ Iclearly establish_. She's naked, she's on top of you and you're touching her. _I'm caressing the softness of her skin. It feels like I've done it a million times before, though. Like I was meant to caress her. Her hand finally releases my mouth, which allows her lips to kiss me intensely. She then moves on to my collar bone and I gasp for air. It's my most sensitive spot.

"Oh, God, Brittany. If I didn't know any better, I'd ask if you have ever done this before."

She smiles down my neck and continues to kiss my skin. The fact that she's an excellent dancer translates in the way she rubs her core on mine. It started of softly, a few minutes ago, but now it's building a steady, rhythmic pace. I feel my fluids soaking through my panties. She nibbles at my nipples, which makes it even worse.

"Take off my pants." I beg.

She stops moving and crawls up, leaning on her elbows. I already miss her lips on my skin. When I look down, I see her nervous panting - _and_ just below her face, there are the marks her teeth left on my boobs.

"Yeah?"

I nod and she silently follows my orders. The pieces of clothing - both my jeans and my panties - end up on the floor behind her bed. Just like she predicted, ten minutes ago. She kneels on the bed and makes her way over to me again. Her knees spread my numb legs and she places herself in between them.

_Oh, _

_my _

_fucking _

_God!_

Feeling her perfectly shaved center, uncovered, on mine is unreal. I've dreamt for this ever since I first kissed her and now it's happening. I gasp for air and pinch the pillow that's under my head. Brittany S. Pierce, the notorious lesbian, is draping my caramel skin and I'm enjoying it way too much.

"Now what?"

It's like I'm searching for a manual. She's so patient with me, it's a miracle. I can't imagine Brittany every being this gentle and caring with any of the girls she normally sleeps with. Mostly, they are random, drunk hook-ups. The girls never spend the night, they never exchange numbers, they don't do anything after they had sex.

"Now I kiss you a little bit more."

Her lips follow my jaw line, while I twist my head backwards. I like that instruction.

"And then I start feeling you up and I touch you in certain places normal friends aren't allowed to touch you."

The way her teasing fingers stroke the upper parts of my thighs make me realize that I'm already grinding my hips up and down against hers. It's an automatic reaction and even though I'm aware of it now, I'm not stopping. I'm so turned on right now. Her hand is so close to my core. It's so close it's probably already covered with my fluids. I want her to put a finger inside of me. I want her to touch me there.

"And then what?"

She pants in my ear and it tickles a little bit. She needs to answer me now.

"Then I ..."

Her frisky behavior makes a statement when she finally brushes her index finger against my clitoris.

"Then I do that."

My hips retract immediately with joy, but she follows my movement so she won't lose touch.

"Oh, my God." I stutter.

It's the best manual in the world, let me tell you.

Brittany doesn't rush things. The rhythm of the circular action is calm and tender. My fingernails disappear deep in the flesh of her back, which makes her shriek with excitement. I heave a sigh because it already feels like I'm about to lose control and experience ever tiny motion of her finger like it's intensified a thousand times. She replaces her index finger with her thumb and I'm suddenly confused.

"I have a feeling you will like this." she says all self-confident about her skills.

Responding is out of the question, I just lie there and go with the flow. The flow of awesome gay sex, that is. The index finger enters my soaking vagina and again, I'm so overwhelmed by what she's doing that my lungs stop working.

"Breathe." she tells me. "Just breathe."

I listen to her and immediately realize that it improves the sensation.

"Now use your hand and gently try to reenact whatever I am doing, but then with me."

She speaks in a soft and patient voice, like a teacher would. Even though my hand is trembling, I take the risk and move it from her back to her stomach. It sinks a little bit deeper and deeper until I reach the area where she shaved off her pubic hairs. I swallow, trying to relax, and remember what she did with me. My fingers don't press down on her skin, they make little strokes, like they are lining out a path to her center. I feel warmth glowing from there. I don't know what to expect. The only vagina I ever touched is my own.

She's now thrusting her hand against my core with her hips. The first time I actually feel her soaking wet place is an accidental touch. She's so aroused by everything that's going on, but hey, I'm the one to tell. I pant like a fool that hasn't had sex in years and moan and groan every other second. Her fingers change the tempo and it's the best feeling in the world. She enters me as deep as she can, then pulls back out almost entirely after that and repeats the whole thing without ever stopping for a second.

My hand has managed to fully cup her vagina by now, but I'm not touching anything yet. It's so very wet. Much wetter than I ever expected it to be. Is this normal? It's not something you can just ask. Or is it? I guess she sees the surprised reaction on my face, because she asks me what's going on. I don't immediately respond. I can't seem to find the appropriate words.

"I've never been this wet before." she fills in the blanks. "This is what you do to me. And you haven't even touched me properly yet."

It's so hot to realize that this girl-crazy sex monster on top of me is so turned on that she can't wait anymore before I finally make a move. I release her from the craving and do exactly what she did to me a few minutes before. My finger touches her clit and it feels like a hard knob in the middle of soft, warm flesh. She shriek out of excitement and bites her lower lip so hard that it turns white. Her blonde hair is falling down my face. I move my index finger up and down, left and right, up and down again. The way her hips rub against my hand, completely claiming its function, releases a relieved sigh from my mouth.

"Am I doing it right?" I want to know.

She silences me with a dominant shush and kisses me passionately. Well, I guess I'm doing _something_ right. Her body is riding me like a cowboy, while she continues to satisfy me by penetrating me with not just one but now two fingers. Her tongue enters my mouth deep and wild and the second she pulls back from my face to exhale all the sexual tension, I take her lower lip and softly suck on it. Little spasms are rushing through my muscles.

"I don't know if I should tell you, but I'm about to come."

She grins and nods, placing short pecks at my jaw . "You should tell me. You should _definitely_ tell me."

I squeeze my eyes shut and feel a massive wave unleashing in every corner of my body. My free hand grabs her perfect, round butt and grinds it impossibly tighter against my body, which unintentionally presses her fingers even deeper inside of me. It's happening. It's happening hard and intense. I no longer know what I am doing: my brain shuts down and every single one of my body parts has lost control. My back curves and detaches from the sweaty mattress, lifting her in the air. I collapse three seconds later and ride out my orgasm in the palm of her hand. Heavy, short breaths try to get some air to enter my body. I'm so exhausted. She pulls back her fingers and slides off of me to land on her side, next to me. Her head is supported by her bended arm.

"Was it good?" she desperately wants to know.

But I can't even move my tiny toe yet, how can she possibly expect me to answer. I shush her, just like she did a few minutes ago and that puts an adorable, proud smile on her face. Then, I poke her, because she shouldn't be this full of herself. A little twitch runs along my skin every couple of seconds and she notices. It's the aftershock. It keeps coming. It's a totally new experience.

"Oh, Santana. I made you come _so_ hard!"

I laugh out loud, but I'm not mad. She did. She gave me the best orgasm I ever had. _For fuck's sake, you just had sex with your best friend and it was amazing. _I groan and try to gain control of all of my senses again. Not much later, I realize that my hand is no longer pleasing her, but she weirdly seems to be okay with that.

"I'm sorry. I let go of you." I carry along.

I pull myself together and roll over to face her gorgeous features. She kisses me on the nose and smirks.

"That's okay. This evening was about you. And don't you have to get up for work in a few hours?"

I check the alarm clock on the night stand and nod.

"Three more hours." I tell her. "Three more hours to thank you for almost literally fucking my brains out."

She shriek as I dive on top of her during a surprise attack.

"Santana!" she screams, rolling over on her back.

"Now, let's see. Where was I?"

I lower my fingers to the part where her fluids have made the area of her inner thighs extremely wet.

"Oh, right. I was doing this ..."

I flicker my finger against her clit and she startles. I can tell she likes it.

"Let's see how those three hours can brighten my knowledge."


	7. DAY 19 - Daddy talk

**Very important chapter here. Santana's having a heart to heart with her father, after her first fight with Brittany. **

**After that, she tries to find her.**

**Keep sending me your questions and suggestions - I love to read them! xx**

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**Day Nineteen.**

The warm, cosy house of my parents is located just outside of town. I haven't been here in weeks and I missed it. Me and my mother usually meet for a coffee at the mall, so we can combine quality time with shopping. Always practical, my mom. And every time I need to see my father, I just drop by at his practice downtown. He's hardly ever home anyway.

It's late in the evening when the squeaking door lets me enter the living room. It smells like exotic food in here, it always does. But something weird is going on: my mom's dancing next to the couch where my father decided to relax for a second. She's all dressed up and awfully loud at this hour and when my inspecting eyes find the empty bottle of wine at the coffee table, it dawns that she's had one too many. My father seems to be enjoying the spectacle, though. He has an amused smile on his face that's soaked in love.

"_Mija_!" he shouts joyfully and my mother turns her head to face me.

She throws her hands up in the air and walks over to hug me. But her arms wrap around me so tightly that it kinda hurts. I groan and try to push her back a little.

"What are you doing here, Santana? I haven't seen your face in ages."

We've missed our weekly appointment this week. I can't really explain to her why that is, though. How do you tell your mother that you've been too busy fucking your girlfriend? A forced smile suppresses my worried face as I try to escape her tight embrace. She smells really bad - like she went swimming in a pool of alcohol, while wearing that awesome outfit. Kinda like Brittany, when she's been out for a couple of night in a row. Where the hell have my parents been?

"We went to a party at the Jefferson's. You're mom ... um."

My father tries to find the kindest of words. His tailored grey hair catches my attention, it looks so cute on him. He already jumped out of his suit to wrap himself in the cosiness of his pajamas.

"She had a good time with Mrs. Jefferson."

"I can tell."

My snarky response has nothing to do with the fact that she's drunk. My mother hardly ever drinks, so when she does and has one glass of alcohol, she's tipsy within a second. Let her have it. I walk over to my dad and peck him on the cheek. My mom tells me that I look too skinny and decides that it's an appropriate hour to cook some tacos. So she disappears through the kitchen door and leaves me alone with _Papá_. A soft smile manages to break through my depressed attitude.

"So that is how the future me looks like."

_Papá_, who hasn't been drinking at all, chuckles and pats the part next to him, but I refuse the offer and walk over to the stool in front of him. That little, soft thing has always been my favorite spot in the room.

"What's wrong, _mija_? You look sad. Did you and Jacob fight again?"

I shake my head and lower my head to get released from his worried look. He knows about the break up. _Everybody_ knows about the break up. There has been nothing but talks about the break up. But they don't understand why I still live there. It's not like I own half of the house or something. My father doesn't judge, though. He never does - at least not out loud. But right now, I couldn't care less about him.

"It's not Jacob. It's Brittany."

I haven't told my father the truth yet. Not to anyone. Brittany's not ready for the impact a serious relationship might have on her life. And I'm not sure if I'm ready to tell my friends and family that I am in love with a girl just yet.

"What happened with Brittany? Is she okay?"

_Good question_. He likes her very much. He thinks she's the best friend I've ever had. She is. If only he knew that she was fucking me, that might chance his feeling about that.

"We had a fight. A massive, _massive_ fight."

"About what?"

He has always been actively involved in my life and I love that about our bond. But I can't tell, even though I really want to. There's bending the truth, although I'm not sure he'll understand.

"We've been ... spending a lot of time lately, since Jacob and I split up. And now ... she feels like I'm smothering her."

At least I'm not lying to him. I'm just covering up the entire truth a little bit.

"Well, _mija_, she has her own life. Maybe there is another person, a special someone, she needs to pay attention to."

I mischievously smile and crinkle my nose: "There isn't."

He sits up straight and kicks off his slippers. Then, he aims his eyes at me again.

"Brittany is a very sweet and wonderful friend. You know that I love her like my own daughter. And I can see that she makes you very happy by being so generous and kind to you. But you have to admit that's she's rather ... wild and restless. She's unpredictable and that's part of her personality. Without that, she's not the same person. You should respect that at give her the opportunity to be whoever she wants to be. If she needs some time away from you, that might not be the worst thing in the world."

His words make me think. Maybe it's true. Maybe it makes sense. I do spend every free second I have with her. Apart from school and the last hours of the day that I spend at Jacob's before he falls asleep, I'm always at her place. Always. We don't go out, because as soon as we see each other, we end up kissing or pulling off each other's clothes. So basically, she has no way of letting her wild side out anymore. I _did_ steal her carefree existence, when I think about it. She never had to care about a single person, and suddenly there's me: absorbing every bit of energy and claiming all her free time because I've happened to develop feelings for her. But how can she be with me and still go out and flirt with all the girls that are around? That's not acceptable, is it? She has always lived that life, I get that. But she needs to be my girlfriend now. She needs to commit. Suddenly, it hits me: she doesn't know that. And how can she understand something that she never had?

She ran out of the bedroom right after I called her a coward. That look in her eyes, it made me so angry. Like she was disgusted by what I just said to her. About everything. About us. It was our first fight ever. I even told her to go fuck herself when she walked out the door.

"Have you tried calling her already?" my father asks.

I don't bother answering him. What a ridiculous question! Of course I did. I've called her like a million times already. Brittany hasn't answered her phone a single time. It's been eight hours and I've searched in every place I know, but she's nowhere to be found. Papá slides to the edge of the couch, so his hand can stroke mine. I look up to him and nearly start to cry. I'm not ready to lose her. Why did I start the fight? Why did I fall in love with her to begin with? Why couldn't things have stayed the exact same way they were before?

"Relax, Santana. She's probably just hanging out with a friend. She'll call you when things cool down."

"You don't know that. I just ... I _really_ need her to call me."

I'm practically panicking and that scares him. His little girl never gets this emotional over something. He knows the daughter he raised. I'm the notorious bitch that got kicked out of high school twice. Once because I started fighting and the second time I had to leave the school, it was for the best, because I almost got sued for slander by a teacher. I might have insulted the guy one too many times, thinking about it. But he had it coming, that perv. No, he can tell that something's up, because Santana Lopez doesn't normally care about little fights and discussions.

He smirks and says something that scares me to my core: "If I didn't know any better, I'd start to think that you're in love with her or something."

My entire body freezes and he notices. The look in his eyes changes and all of a sudden, it hits him: she's not just a friend to me. I'm too ashamed to look him in the eye. He organizes his thoughts and thinks about all the things that changed the last couple of weeks. I broke up with Jacob, but I haven't told anyone _why_. I spend every waking hour with Brittany instead of coming home. I'm mad at her because she thinks I'm smothering her. I'm this upset because I don't want her to go out and continue her ladykiller experiments.

He knows. Deep down, he knows. I've never been this anxious before. My father knows that I'm in love with a girl and I'm so terrified that I can't even breathe anymore. At the same time, there's nothing in my reaction, not an annoyed or rejecting twitch that's so typical for me, that even tries to deny what he just said. Seconds pass and not one of us says a word. We just sit there and process. I swallow hard and make sure my eyes keep staring at the carpet underneath my feet. My body's curled up, wishing I could just disappear. I'm too afraid to look up and face him.

My mother re-enters the room with a plate full of fresh, hot tacos. She's being extremely loud again and sings along to one of her favorite songs that's playing on loop inside her of her head. The tension is as plain as clear day-light, but she's too tipsy to notice.

"Here you go. Food! Grab one and tell me how delicious they are."

She puts the plate on the coffee table and gleams. A tear comes rolling down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away, so she won't see. My father notices and softly squeezes the hand that's still feeling his touch. My lungs inhale the deepest breath they ever took and it helps fighting back the rest of my tears. Out of nowhere, my phone starts beeping, which finally triggers a reaction. I get it out of my back pocket and look at the screen to find one of my friend's name.

**_Quinn (22h46):_**

_'I'm at Fiesta. Brittany's here, too. Why aren't you with your twin? xxx' _

My heart skips a beat. Finally, I know where she is. I get up on my feet and release my father's touch. The phone disappears in my back pocket again, while I come up with an excuse to leave. Lying to my parents to sneak out to go to a party is like my second nature, so it comes in handy.

"I'm sorry, _Mami_, I need to go. Quinn needs my help."

"Is she alright? Does she want some tacos?"

She's quite adorable when tipsy, really. My father realizes what's going on and shakes his head: "I don't think she does, darling. I'll take one. Just say goodbye to your daughter."

It sounds symbolic. Like she should say goodbye to the Santana she has known since I was born. I know _he_ is.

"Can I call you in the morning?" he asks me after a couple of seconds. By now I have made it to the door. A hesitant jabber takes over, but I finally look at him and see the concerned look on his face. I nod and tell my parents that I love them both. My father's nose twitches and his eyes become extremely glassy. Are there tears filling up his eyes?

"I love you, too, Santana. I always will, no matter what. You remember that, okay?"

"Me too!" my mom shrieks, full of excitement.

I smile softly and grab the doorknob. I wish I didn't have to leave.

* * *

"Where is she?"

My hand grabs Quinn's shoulder to turn her around and face me. She's surprised and blinks a couple of times before she realizes it's me. I don't even have the decency greet her. Or Rachel, who's standing beside her. I don't really care about the latter, though. Rachel is better off thinking that I don't like her, because, honestly, about eighty percent of the time, I really don't. She gently smiles at me and slurps her drink. She's always hanging around Quinn and it's annoying. _She's_ annoying. And she thinks I'm rude and selfish. Quinn's not that surprised by my current behavior, though. I can get pretty dominant, especially when it involves Brittany. That's how it's always been, ever since we met.

"Good evening, too, Santana Lopez. How about a hug?"

Her breath smells like martinis. She opens up her arms to put them around me, but I push them back irritated. She wipes the loose, blonde hairs away from her forehead and frowns.

"What's up with you? You're being even bitchier than on a regular monday."

I hate mondays - Quinn's aware of that. And she's not afraid to tell me to my face.

"Where is she?" I urge.

She's so confused that she's no longer interrogating me. She simply lifts her hands and points in the direction of the dancefloor. Like I would be talking about anybody else than Brittany. That's when I see her, fifteen feet away from me. She's dancing in the middle of the room, surrounded by a group of girls. _Typical_. My face freezes. Her body, covered in pink shorts and a top that's hardly bigger than her bra, is showing off flirtatious dance moves that can only mean one thing: Brittany's drunk. She's awfully drunk, I can tell. That's how she deals with issues: she drinks until she can't remember their existence. I don't say a word, I just watch her as one particular girl grinds her back against Brittany's chest, who is too drunk to have a clue what's happening. The fact that she can still dance with those high heels on is remarkable. The sight makes my blood boil. I'm about to go all Lima Heights on that girl's ass!

"She's on fire tonight." Rachel informs me straight forwardly while carefully holding on to the glass of water Quinn probably ordered for her. "Even though I don't support the lack of dignity she seems to possess and the fact that she practically insults every argument feminists have ever made since the late 1800s by throwing herself at that group of willingly, sex-craving girls, I must say that's she very good at it. That ginger girl over there is practically undressing herself, in front of all the others."

"Shut it, Hobbit." I growl at her.

Quinn quickly sorts me out, but minimizes the risks of me further insulting her friend by telling Rachel to shut up.

"Why are you dressed like that, Santana? You do realize that this is the hottest bar in town, right?" she asks me.

I know what I'm wearing: a white top, some casual jeans and knee-high boots. My hair's a mess and I'm not even wearing _that_ much make-up. But I'm not concerned at all.

"I look like I just got out of bed and still manage to look ten times as hot as Rachel, so I can live with that." I mumble.

Neither of them bothers to even comment on that. They know I'm right. I walk away from them and make my way over to Brittany. We really need to talk. Just when I'm almost close enough to tap her on the shoulder, the girl in front of her surprises me by turning around and kissing her on the mouth shamelessly. My body backs away from what's happening and my heart skips a beat.

_What the fuck is happening here?_

Brittany doesn't push her away, though. She lets the redhead kiss her like there's absolutely no reason why that should be a problem. As soon as my mind and heart have recovered from what I just witnessed, my feet take the final steps to reach her. I push the carrot top away from my best friend and aim my flaming eyes at her.

"Get the hell off of her or I'll kill you with my bare hands."

I'm pretty sure that's not a lie. Brittany, suddenly snapping out of her drunk high, gapes at me with an expression I've never seen before. She did not expect me here, that's obvious. But I don't allow her a chance to say something by shoving her, but not enough to hurt her. I would never really hurt her. This is just some old-fashioned shock therapy.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing that should interest you." is her numb, yet slightly pissed off reaction.

My jaw drops and there's absolutely nothing I can think of in order to reply. I'm not sure if she's realizing that it's me who's standing in front of her. Not a single person on this earth would dare to speak to me this way.

"Come with me." I eventually order her.

My pinching grip drags her out of the bar. We pass Quinn and Rachel, who stop having a good time the minute they discover the storm that has taken over my already angry face from before. They call out our names, but I ignore them. I swear to God, if that Israeli dwarf would have said another thing to me, I would've slapped her.

"Brittany, what the hell?" I shout at her as soon as we are outside.

It's cold but I don't care. I just want to know why she just let that girl kiss her. I'm raging, I'm furious. My hands slightly shove her _again_, because I'm so very mad at her. I want to punch her in the face, actually, and I feel bad about even thinking about that. I wish the hobbit was here, she's be an excellent punching bag.

"What?" she asks me, while putting her hands up in the air like there's nothing going on.

"You made it pretty sure that you disagreed with me this morning. So I just go back to living my old life again now, don't I?"

I'm confused and frown deeply.

"What are you talking about?"

She walks over to me, while pointing her index finger at my face.

"You told me to go fuck myself."

She's angry at me. She's angry at me for telling her that. I sigh angrily and slap her accusatory finger away from me.

"We didn't break up, Brittany. We had a fight. We _argued_. It's what people do when they are involved with each other. I got mad, you got mad. I yelled, you ... well, you didn't yell, but that's irrelevant. I told you to fuck off, you ran out. That's how it works."

She shuts up and thinks about my sentence for a while.

"And then what?" she asks with a small part of arrogance in her voice.

"And then we make up and have awesome make-up sex, _duh_."

She twitches her head and pouts.

"Really? That's how it works?"

It's genuine surprise that escapes her mouth. I take a deep breath and bite my lower lip with frustration because I can't help but finding all of this cute. She's impossible, but at least I get it now: I'm the manual for once. She hasn't got a clue. She has no clue how this works. That fact is so fascinating that it takes away every angry feeling inside of me. _Dammit, Brittany!_

"Yeah." I sigh. "That's how it works, silly. So basically, you just cheated on me."

She hears the word coming from my mouth and puts her hands together like she's about to pray or beg ... or dive into a pool, really.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Santana. I'm really - really sorry! I never wanted you to feel like I cheated on you. I thought you never wanted to see me again after we argued so I just ... I thought you dumped me. I've never been dumped. I don't know how these things go - how I'm supposed to behave."

She's a lot more sober right now. Like our second fight of the day did the trick.

"Apparently." I snarl, but her cuteness makes me cave in. "Now, just shut up and kiss me."

"What?"

I grab her by the neck and pull her close to me. Our lips touch and she's too surprised to put her arms around me. We kiss hard and long, and for a minute, it feel like the world is spinning around us. We are in the middle of an abandoned market place and yes, it's in the open air - so, yes, people can see us being all heated up and passionate, but I couldn't care less. I just need to kiss her. I need to feel her warm tongue firmly in my mouth, playing with mine. We part and our foreheads lean against one another.

"I'm so sorry, Santana."

I know she's telling the truth. There was not a single part of her that thought she was doing something wrong. This girl's going to be a lot of work to be with. But she's so worth it. She's my best friend. The most beautiful and smartest person I ever met.

"Why are we fighting? Why didn't you tell me that I was smothering you? I would've been more careful about that."

She shakes her head and pants inches away from me. It's so damn cold out here.

"It's okay. I'm just scared. I'm so very scared about all of it."

I don't get it. I need her to tell me. She always tells me everything.

"What are you so afraid of?"

The blur in her head is fading away. But I can see she's struggling to formulate what's going through her mind. Her body steps away from me and turns around to face the empty sky.

"Suddenly I have feelings, Santana. I never had feelings - I don't _need_ feelings."

She stamps her foot to the ground and pouts again.

"Make them go away."

She's acting like a little kid. An adorable, little kid. It's her awkward way of telling me that she thinks she loves me. But her body makes a drastic turn and walks over to me again.

"I guess we can try this." she carefully utters. "We can, like, be a couple or something. I can try if you want me to. I'd do that for you. I would do anything for you, I think."

So freaking adorable, the way she tells me that's she's up for the challenge. It's absurd how scary this whole idea of being seriously involved with somebody is to her ... But the most important part is: she wants to be with me. Her fingers are touching mine and she wants to be with me. I smile and walk with her to the car that's waiting for her. She always has a chauffeur when she's out to party. Being rich kind of is an awesome thing, really. A lot of times, a limousine takes us to wherever we want to go. We get in and I can't stop staring at her. The car is taking us further and further away out of town, but I don't care. For all I know, she's leading us to the edge of a cliff, where a massive colony of giant snakes is having us for dinner and the devil himself has his invitation to enter hell ready for us, but that would be okay because our fingers are entwined and she just told me she wanted to be with me.


	8. DAY 33 - Midnight affairs

_**Finally got an opportunity to update. Hope you guys like this one - let me know what you think ;) As always: thanks for the support!**_

* * *

**Day Thirty Three.**

I sneak from his bed to hers, ever night. And when I get there, we make love like it's the last chance we'll ever get. I love it - it are the best moments of my day, but I am tired. I am _so_ very very tired. I haven't slept in weeks and every waking moment feels like I'm about to die. My muscles are sour, my eyes hurt and there's not a second I wish I wasn't asleep. My job has become an unbearable task, simply because it requires me to keep my eyes open. Thank God Jacob's father actually likes me. He isn't happy with the break up, but he is aware that I'm excellent at what I'm doing, so I'm safe. But Jacob refuses to give up on me, even though I've told him that there'll never be a way to reconnect again. We don't kiss anymore, we don't cuddle or have sex. I really, really broke up with him and he knows that. Still, he insists I sleep next to him, because - as he tells me - it's impossible to fall asleep without me in his bed. It's a habit he can't break and it breaks my heart just thinking about the fact that I'll have to tell him the truth about Brittany and me someday. And in order to spare him bad nightmares and ugly tears, I do as I'm told and I rest next to him until he relaxes and fades into silent sleeping. He's still my best friend. My best friend who's in love with me, but it's not his fault that I no longer feel the same. We talk for hours and discuss all the things that happens in life. He never asks me about my love life, thank God. But one day he will - and I won't be able to lie to him anymore when he does. But in the meantime, I count down the hours until I get to crawl under the sheets, next to her. And every single night, she texts me to keep herself entertained.

"Get out of your boyfriend's bed and into mine."

That one's her favorite, no question about that. Without making a noise, my silent steps bring me from his house to hers. She leaves the door open for me, so it's easy for me to take my position in her bed. As soon as the mattress moves under my weight, she wakes up and turns her sleepy eyes at me. That's her cue to make sweet love to me. It's the moment when she puts her warm hands on my cold skin and kisses the tip of my chin. I am so madly in love with her that my desire to sleep immediately disappears as soon as she smiles at me and the soft moans of her cracked voice reaches my ears.

But today has been too much. Jacob and I talked for hours before he fell asleep. His family is aware that we're in some trouble, but he refuses to declare that we're officially broken up, even though the rest of them knows better. His grandmother wants me to marry the future CEO of the company. She expects me to stay loyal and obedient to him and accept my position in the family. I refuse to do so. I refuse to live a life as unhappy as hers. She thinks this is just a phase. She thinks I'll figure it all out in a couple of weeks, that I'm just trying to act out a little bit and then I'll fall back into his arms. She's wrong. My heart belongs to Brittany, the wild child, who never talks about her feelings and shies away from emotional conversations. Jacob keeps throwing his heart out, keeps emphasizing how much he misses me as his girlfriend. But I can't do anything to make his pain go away. And maybe I remain too involved. Maybe a clean break would be the best decision. But as I said: he's my best friend. He's helped me get through so many things, so many difficult situations. I've lived in his house for over two years and he never once treated me bad. It's me, who is the crappy lover. It's me that fell in love with his cousin. And he absolutely has no clue that I've been craving for her, while he kept me warm at night. An hour after he finally passed out on his side of the bed, I'm making my way across the premises to the house where I spend my sneaky nights and forbidden love affair. My feet are so numb from the lack of rest that it takes me ten minutes before I reach the big, blue front door. It hurts my muscles to pull off my boots and before I know it, my eyes block out my brain's way of thinking and I'm fast asleep on the couch.

* * *

I wake up three hours later from a hand movement that isn't mine. My sleepy eyes open to catch a glimpse of recognition and they find her, asleep as well, lying uncomfortably next to me. Her head is tilted awkwardly against the back of the furniture we're on and her hands are both stretched out on my lap. She put a blanket on top of me after she found me and decided to stay with me. It's dead cute and she'll never admit it, but she can't spend a night without me anymore either, just like her cousin. Even though I'd rather close my eyes again immediately, I move a couple of inches to the other side of the big, comfy couch to pull her along with me. She doesn't even wake up. She just stretches out and puts her arms around my waist as I end up spooning her on the very narrow pillow underneath us. My legs are wrapped around hers and she disappears in my firm embrace. As a final touch, I let the blanket cover us both. It's how we fall asleep. And I am _so_ happy to finally get some sleep.

* * *

When I wake up, we seem to have switched positions over the night. I no longer hold her in my arms, but she's spooning me now. I'm facing the leather back of the couch and painfully tilt my head a couple of times until I can literally hear the stiffness snapping out of it. Dozing off in that sweater wasn't the best idea. She wakes up straight after the scary sound released my neck ache and softly plants a kiss on my shoulder.

"Hi." she whispers to my long, black hair.

I shrug out of excitement and smile, even though she'll never see it. With a soft touch of her fingers, she orders me to turn around and face her. The first thing she does, is kiss me and that is immediately a perfect decision. She tastes like strawberry candies, which makes me lick my own lips when ours part.

"Hi." I whisper back.

I'm such a dork when I'm around her. A second later, she crawls top of me. The sight of her stunning face hanging over me is breathtakingly beautiful. She's so gorgeous, even after just waking up in the morning. I want to tell her how much I love her, but I can't. It might scare her off. No, it _will_ scare her off. So I approach things differently and wrap my arms around her to pull her impossibly closer.

"Thank you for letting me sleep tonight."

"Watching you sleep was totally worth it. You're dead cute when you snore."

She's lying, because I don't snore, like - at all!

I feel her warm body on mine and the familiar experience slowly starts to send shivers down my spine. I can see it has the same effect on her. My hands hoover over her slim back as I pull her close and it causes her to smile mysteriously. She feels warm and inviting. Yesterday, I was so desperate to catch some sleep that I forgot how great it feels to make love to her. And now, _all_ I want to do is make love to her, like there'll literally be no tomorrow. My lips find their way to the lower part of her neck, just above the hem of her shirt. It immediately drives her crazy. Her naughty look appears, but she no longer smiles. Her eyes are closing as she throws her head back and her knees urge my legs to open up. Her skinny body slips in between. She's only wearing some short panties and a tight, white shirt, which offers me a great and detailed view on her breasts. Her nipples are hard. Within seconds, I feel extremely aroused and horny. Her core is subtly rocking into mine, as she leans on her right arm to get a better grip on her movements. No words are being said before we automatically start to friction our lower bodies against each other. We've only been awake for about a minute, but I need to feel her. I need her sex, and she responds without blinking or smiling or sighing. My panties are so incredibly wet that it must soak right through the layer above it. I hear her panting uncontrollably and we're not even naked yet. Suddenly, she aims her look at mine. There's this serious and emotional look in her eyes that I've never seen before. It's like she's trying to read my mind as I continue to feel her precise movements on top of my pants. Suddenly, I start to think about what we're doing. _Is she trying to dry fuck me?_ I didn't expect to be such a big fan, but _damn_, it's working. Her intense look only makes it better. We stare at each other for a while, while we both get extremely turned on from our strange behavior. This is the most intimate I ever got her. There's no kissing, no joking around, no words to be spoken. Only that search in each other's eyes for silent interaction and rhythmic rubbing. Groaning noises appear from my mouth without permission, but I can't help it. The only thing that happens in my world right now is her core rubbing itself against mine and it drives me absolutely crazy. But then, as if she gets pulled out of some sort of trance, she suddenly freezes and looks up to me.

"Do you want to take off you clothes?" she bluntly asks.

I guess I take a second or three to think about it, but the experience is just too good to let it go to waste, so I shake my head rapidly and pull her head close to mine so my lips can touch her.

"I want you to fuck me through my clothes." my voice breathes through her mouth.

The dirty talk surprises her a little bit, because she mysteriously smiles at me. Who knew this would have that kind of effect on me? It's all I can say, really, because my panting gets heavier and heavier.

"And make you come hard?" she asks in a sexy voice I didn't even realize she had.

I nod as I take her lower lip between my teeth. It must hurt her a little bit, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. On the contrary, it makes her speed up her movements even more. Our breathing follows the pace and before we know it, we're close to a climax. Sloppy kissing demonstrates our lack of patience this morning. It's all tongue and teeth. The fabric separating our bodies feels hot, due to the friction, while the touch of her upper legs, thrusting between mine, drives me over the edge. I let the fingers of my right hand hold her hair in a tight grip, as I stare into her eyes - I'm forcing her to look back: "I'm close. I'm gonna come."

It takes all of me to utter the words, because my body's about to explode. That exciting look in her eyes does the trick. She's so proud to make me orgasm, that it sends an extra sensual and erotic action to her hips and as if I'm being taken over by a supernatural feeling, all control over my body seems to slip away from me. There's nothing left, not a single muscle that I can control. My legs start shaking uncontrollably, my head tilts back and my back loses contact with the couch as I lifts her up with me. The walls of my womb contract like crazy and it's like there are countless waves of spasms running through it. A loud moan gets released from my mouth and instead of letting me collapse like an exhausted victim of her sexiness, she positions herself a little differently so that her left leg crosses my right one. She's scissoring me, but with clothes on. I'm so sensitive down there right now, but I don't care. My fingers, the only parts of my body that I regained control over again, claw their nails through the fabric of her panties, right into her ass. It sets her off even more and before she knows it, she's next. That little change in her lovemaking is enough to make her come, accompanied by a loud and uncontrolled groan. The overwhelmed look on her face is amazing. It's like she's in pain, but the good kind of pain. Her eyes just go white, while her teeth get pressed into her lower lip until it almost starts bleeding. After all of that, she collapses on top of my chest. I'm close to recovered and wipe the blond locks of hair out of her sweaty face. My lips plant a soft kiss on top of her forehead.

"_That_ was ..."

I'm totally out of breath. Her head drops to the side and after a second, her fragile body drops next to me. She's exhausted.

"I know." she gasps.

"I didn't know you could...?"

"I know."

I roll on top of her and kiss her jawline.

"We should _totally_ ..."

She turns her face to me and smirks: "I know."

* * *

When she walks into the bedroom that evening, she instantly starts to cry. I'm busy catching up on some work stuff in bed and almost don't notice her strange behavior. It's one of the few times I can spend an entire evening at her place, Jacob's out with some friends to cheer him up. He texted me, an hour ago, to let me know he's doing alright. I'm so relieved that he's finally having some fun. But then I look up, and notice the tears - and my heart sinks. It feels like the entire weight of the world is positioning itself on her shoulders and there's nothing else to do but feel miserable about it. But she wasn't planning on letting me witness the sadness in her behavior, because she flees to the bathroom. My glasses and bundle of paper disappear immediately and without saying a word, I follow her footsteps. I find her in the corner of the little room, all curled up in her own arms, next to the shower cabin, as if she's a little child that's seeking for shelter and comfort. She's wearing a onesie, and her blond hair is divided in two cute ponytails. But there are no parents to pick her up and carry her to bed. There's no grandmother to make her some hot chocolate milk and tell her everything will be okay. It are thick and painful tears that are rolling down her cheeks and I have no idea what's going on. I kneel over and wrap my arms around that small, fragile body and desperately try to make her stop crying. I fail.

"What is it?" I nervously ask. "What's wrong?"

Brittany raises her head and faces the one that confuses her more than any girl in the world ever could. She doesn't understand this feeling, I get that. She's scared.

"I am in love with you, Santana. I am so incredibly in love with you."

It comes out of nowhere, this panic attack, but she finally found a way to accept it. My heart skips a beat when I hear her say those words, but I can withdraw the happy smile that's hiding somewhere. I take a deep breath before my words dare to respond. My head just starts to nod - the movement is so subtle that it's almost invisible to the eye.

"I know." I whisper. "I know. I love you, too."

I pet the top of her head to make her feel better. But it's not happy news. It's nothing to cheer about. This shakes up our entire lives. The only thing that's appropriate to do is to hold each other in the corner of that dark room. Brittany finds comfort in my embrace. She feels like home when I, her best friend, hold her. I'm her person. I'm the one that would drag her outside of a burning house, even though she might be the reason why it would be burning down in the first place.


	9. DAY 35 - Scout's honor

**Got a chance to update. Hope you'll all like it ;)**

* * *

**Day Thirty Five.**

We're at a party where everyone's having fun, but I'm constantly peeking at my watch. I need to get up so very early. The whole _grown-up going to work_ thing is still a painful subject in my chaotic planning. I keep ending up at bars where I used to spend most of my college days. Brittany has all the time in the world, though. She's a student, but only, like, theoretically. Classes are optional. I bet she doesn't even remember the last time she saw a teacher from nearby. It's just a cover to have unlimited access to parties and a carefree existence as long as it'll last. Someday, her family will probably expect her to join the company and do her share. But as long as she's studying, she's safe.

Quinn and Rachel are involved in a drinking game and even though it looks like a lot of fun, I can't allow myself to show up at work with a hangover. Sleepy eyes and constant yawning is about as far as I can go, really. They're both hammered and that's quite impressive, because Rachel Berry hardly ever drinks. Let me tell you: she's even more annoying while drunk. And she's all over Quinn. But I have Brittany to take my mind off of that. We don't act like a couple outside of the walls of her house, but find other interesting ways to keep ourselves entertained. We're playing it safe, so Jacob won't hear from one of his friends that we're hooking up. She's okay with it, though. But the hardest part for her is turning all the girls down with our friends around. They have no idea what's going on and Brittany's civilized act is definitely drawing attention. We can't tell yet. Not before I've told Jacob.

My eyes are starting to feel tired, even though the dress she's wearing is offering me plenty to stare at, and I really want to go home, but I don't want to ruin her fun drive. My hands pull her close to me and her dancing movements don't stop, they're just happening pressed against me now. I like it too much, but I can't let it show. Those hips, they were born to wiggle.

"Babe, I'm gonna go home. I'm tired. And I need to work tomorrow." I say just loud enough for her to hear.

She immediately pouts - that typical, adorable, undeniable Brittany pout. _Yeah, that one!_ It's her perfect weapon. She's having fun, I can tell. The music is great tonight and as long as she can dance, damn, she's happy.

"You stay."

"No, I'll come with you." she responds.

But I insist: "Stay. Have fun with Quinn and Rachel and the gang. I'm good."

I give her a lovely peck on the cheek, because I'm going to miss her tonight. It's not until after my lips leave her skin, that I start to analyze my behavior. Did this seem suspicious? It has become a habit, by now, kissing her every time I leave. And it's more than just a sweet, friendly peck. It always lasts too long and every time it happens, a magical smile appears on her face. That's exactly what's happening right now. _Thank God I didn't aim at her mouth_. Quinn frowns a little when she sees us interact strangely, but doesn't think too much of it. I say my goodbyes and walk away from my friends, heading towards the exit. When I pass the little side entrance, a muscled arm pulls back and pushes me to the dark little corner that nobody ever uses. I freak out at first, only to find her freckles close to my face when I recognize who it is.

"Brittany!" I shriek.

She doesn't say anything back, she just presses me up against the wall and kisses me on the mouth. A relieved sigh escapes my mouth. I've been wanting to do that for hours. _Christ, she's an excellent kisser_.

"I'll miss you." she whispers as our lips part.

"I'll miss you, too." I smile.

Then I'm thinking about the last time she went out without me. We were fighting. I remember that redhead.

"Don't kiss anyone else." I warn her.

She's amused by my comment and raises four fingers.

"Scout's honor."

I force her little pinky down and correct the gesture.

"It's three fingers, babe."

A provocative smile appears: "Right, how could I forget? It's your favorite amount of fingers."

Flushing happening, right as we speak. She's so naughty. Such a tease.

"Now, go back and have fun. _Wait_!" I correct myself as she's starting to walk away from me.

I bend over to her and kiss her again. I can't help myself. Besides, nobody can see us here.

"Take the limo." she suggests.

I snort and shake my head: "I can't do that, Brittany."

"No, it's okay. Just tell Ben to drop you off and come back. He has to wait for me anyway."

It's such a natural thing for her.

"It's fun being rich, isn't it?"

My snarky response causes her to shrug, all oblivious.

"I don't know what you're talking about." she says.

I walk away from her and when I turn around, I find her staring at me. I love that girl. And she loves me.

* * *

She seemed to have crawled into my bed without me noticing. And now that she's kissing my cheek, I slowly start to smile. It's the first time I've slept at my parents' house in two years. They're on a holiday and have asked me to accept the task of house sitting. It's weirdly strange to be back again. Normally, when I'm around, there's always loud noises coming from my mom or deep conversations with my father are happening. Now there's nobody. Nothing. Nothing but silence. I don't like it.

"What are you doing?" I ask with a sleepy smile on my face.

"I'm waking you up." Brittany answers as her ice cold hands are slipping under my shirt.

She's under the covers with me. It didn't even cross my mind that it might have been her cousin when I felt somebody sneaking up on me. He'd never wake me up in the middle of the night to put his hands on my skin. Certainly not anymore. But she's here ... and now I feel her body - her greedy body. She's drunk, I can smell it.

"Why? To eat cookies and drink some milk?"

I'm trying to be funny, although my sleepy state of mind must be a disturbing factor.

"Yes. Lots of cookies. And a _lot_ of milk."

"I love milk." I decide, but my eyes can't seem to stay open for longer than a few seconds.

She's radiating coldness and it brings down the entire effect of my cosy and warm sheets. I'm not really sure if we're being metaphorical about the cookies and milk thing, but it's a fact that she's out to have sex with me. I can't blame her - we have awesome sex.

"How did you even get in?" I ask when I turn around and put a hand on her cheek. Brittany's bright blue eyes are sparkling, even in the middle of the night, without a single light on.

"I found a pair of back-up keys at my place. It took me about a half an hour until I put the right one in the lock. There's a small possibility that a cautious neighbor might have called the police."

I chuckle and yawn afterwards. I have no idea what time it is, but it's a fact that I need to get up in a couple of hours. There's a lot of work to do at the office.

"Do you want to sleep?" she asks, like she's giving me a choice.

I frown because,_ of course I want to sleep!_ That's the whole point of me sleeping. But I'll do anything for this girl, she knows that. Maybe if we just ... ?

"What about a quickie?" I suggest.

She doesn't like that idea, though. Brittany's all about exploring things elaborately. Like, my body and all.

"No, just ... where's your phone?"

I frown and tilt my head: "My phone?"

"Yeah, give it to me."

I hand her the device that's under my pillow. A bad habit, but hey, don't judge. She runs her fingers over the enlightened touchscreen and, without showing me what she did, puts it back under my pillow again.

"What are you doing?" I ask through the dark of night.

She smiles and kisses me on the lips.

"We're going to sleep."

"But what did you do with my phone?"

She slaps away my searching hand and silences me by putting her left one on my mouth.

"You'll see. Good night, Santana."

I decide to trust her, even though that might come back and bite me in the ass tomorrow morning. She kisses my neck and puts her head down on the pillow next to me. Her arm is wrapped around me tightly.

"Brittany?"

"Yeah."

"Take off your shoes when you're in my bed, will you?"

She chuckles and sits back up.

"Oh, sorry."

* * *

It's still a little bit dark outside when the alarm signal wakes me up. I'm less tired than I expected to be after last night's surprise visit by Britt. Thank God I'm still young. Forty-year-old me could not handle an illicit lesbian affair. I grab my phone and find a little text balloon popping up at the screen when I want to shut the noise up.

"Early call for sexy shower time." it says.

An excited smile takes over my face and I turn around to find a struggling Brittany, desperately fighting to wake up.

"So, you've been playing with my phone."

"Well, only so I could play with you." she immediately responds.

Sometimes, she's even snarkier than me. I get up without kissing or hugging her, something that's obviously disturbing her. My upper body bends over to grab my phone and I make sure that she has a clear view on my toned ass. On my way over to the door, leading me to the hall and straight to the bathroom, I pull off my white shirt and striped pajama pants. I stretch out my arm and allow them to fall down on the ground. Her eyes light up as she watches the show. My caramel skin is almost naked now, the only thing covering me up are some lace, black panties, while my long, black hair is falling down my bare shoulders. But I don't turn my head to look at her, I just tease her and leave the room. I hear how she jumps out of bed and follows me like a little puppy. By the time that she has made it to the hallway, my lace panties are hanging from the bathroom doorknob. _You're too easy, Britt_.

The water is already heating up, just the way I like it. I sense that she's behind me. It won't be a surprise if she has already stripped down completely, to speed up things. But I turn around and find her fully dressed. _Interesting_.

"I need to be at work in an hour." I emphasize.

She nods, displays that adorable smile of hers and raises an eyebrow as soon as she starts inspecting my naked body. She walks over to me and puts a single finger against my chest, hinting me to take steps backwards. I hit the cold cabin door and open it with my hand behind my back. She just stares at me and doesn't say a word. I get in. The water's nice and warm when it comes falling down my body. Brittany's acting all mysterious again. I love it when she does that. Her mind is a place I'd pay a million dollars to live in. I have no clue what goes on inside of her head half the time, so she keeps surprising me with the most mind-blowing ideas and sweet gestures. She's a genius, yet nobody seems to pay attention to any of it. I turn around to turn the rain shower head wide open and moan joyfully. I love this bathroom. My father designed it a couple of years ago and I wish I could take it with me wherever I go. The shower head is hidden in the ceiling, and blue spotlights hover over your body to highlight every little change in your skin. Taking a shower feels like standing underneath a waterfall, really. A nice, fancy, hygienic waterfall, that is. When her body finally makes contact with mine, I notice that she's still wearing her dress. Completely surprised, I turn around and watch as the water has turned her outfit into a soaking mess. That pretty dress is never going to be the same again. _It's dry clean only_! It's disturbingly hot behavior, and it's Brittany, so anything is possible.

"You're crazy. Why didn't you take off your clothes?"

"You only have fifty five minutes left to be at work. There's no time to be wasted."

She plants a sloppy kiss on my lips and smiles. I caress the wet fabric. Her nipples have turned hard already.

"If you would've worn jeans, it would've been impossible to put my hand down your wet pants, Britt-Britt." I tell her, realizing it's good advice for the future.

"In that case, I'd give you permission to be find rough or aggressive solutions."

The moment her small fingers pull down her red panties from underneath the very short cocktail dress, my body's heating up in a way that I can't describe. I can't see any of her private parts, but the teasing effect is such a turn on. It's so freaking hot to witness. This has been one of her better ideas, for sure. Her hair is so wet that it has changed color. It's darker now. When the panties have slipped over her feet and found their new destination in the corner of the shower, she kneels just a little bit to level my breasts. She nibbles at my skin and the feeling is so great that I automatically start to moan, while I put my fingers through her hair. _Fuck work, I'll make up an excuse for showing up late_.

"Oh, Brittany." I sigh relieved to feel her touch.

Her body rises again and it pushes me against the cold, white tiles. Her hand grabs a bottle of shampoo and she squeezes the gel in her left hand. Then, she massages my chest like a true professional. Nothing has even happened yet and I'm already panting. She raises her hands until she reaches my neck and my shoulders. Her fingers are little wonders. No matter what she does with them, it always feels great. I bite my own lip when I see her fascinated expression following the trail that the foam is leaving down my skinny body. She kneels down again, completely now, and rubs my inner thighs. _Oh, that feels good_. A couple more inches and she touches my core. But she doesn't, she back away again and I almost feel disappointed. She's more thorough than I imagined. I'm covered in soap at this point and it's such a bright contrast on my caramel colored skin.

"Turn around." she orders me.

I do as I'm told and flip over to face the wall. Both of my hands are keeping me up. I once slipped in our old shower and that has left some psychological marks of insecurity when it comes to slippery surfaces. Thankfully, the water remains warm. I hate cold showers. They are the worst thing in life.

She gets back up and massages my back with the shampoo as well. When she's done, she asks me if I need to wash my hair as well. I shake my head. There's no time for that. I'll just dry it with a towel and pull it together in a ponytail when I get out of here. She guides me back to the place where the rain shower is the most effective and carefully follows the foam dripping down my body.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." she tells me, all enchanted, while turning me back around.

It's dead cute and the following kiss is a natural result of it. The blonde beauty wraps her entire body around me when the sweet touch is over and breathes in and out against me. I feel her heartbeat. I feel it skipping beats and pounding like crazy. The hot water keeps flowing over our heads. I let my hands slide along the parts of her body that I've caressed countless times before. Her dress is ruined for life, but truth be told: I didn't expect that it could emphasize her epic posture even better after last night, when I saw it draped around her body and the sight took my breath away. I was wrong. It sticks to her like a second skin now and it's super hot. My hand slips all the way down her firm stomach and reaches the edge of the green fabric. A second later, it disappears from my view and I experience just how turned on she is by watching me all soaped up. There's a clear difference between the shower water and her own fluids. Something's so hot about having sex with your clothes on. It's like a secretive thing, like any person could just walk in on you any minute. She presses her eyes shut and sucks her bottom lip in. I make it quick: a rhythmic and fast pace that gets her off after three minutes of heavily panting in my ear. The advantage of fucking around the clock is that you soon know all the favorite things about each other. I know exactly which twist of my fingers will make her shriek with joy and which won't. She taught me a lot about the girl on girl action. And I had to learn to trim my fingernails on a regular basis, because when we had sex the second or third time, I accidentally cut her somewhere ... _inside of her._ She wasn't too happy about that.

When she orgasms, she pulls me even closer, to make sure she won't fall over or crumble down. I've been fixating on her beautiful boobs, who have surfaced after her dress has dropped down a couple of inches due to the weight of the water. Boobs are the best thing about loving a girl, really. I used to be disgusted by guys who shamelessly stared at my twins. I couldn't figure out what was so fascinating about them, but then I saw Brittany's breasts and I was like: _oh, my God! Yes: I love boobs_. I snap out of my obsession and look up. Her pale face is all red and only a satisfied smile lights it up.

"Thank you." she says, like I've just given her a present.

I smile and suck at her right earlobe.

"Well, you can thank me during the ten minutes I've got left."

I really need to get dressed and leave for work, actually. As soon as her eyes have managed to open up again and the harassing trills have faded a little bit, she rubs her fingers against my left inner thigh and strokes my skin up and down, only missing my wet core by an inch. I'm so turned on that it starts to frustrate me. A silent panting has taken over my breathing and I can't stand it anymore.

"Please, Brittany. Touch me there." I beg.

I fucking beg again. I've become so dependent. I hope Quinn never finds out about that. She's kissing my collar bone, another weak spot. Her fingers slide upwards ... Inch by inch. Closer and closer. But just when she's about to tickle my aroused part, she steps away from me and quickly exits the shower. The surprise twist leaves me startled and I ask her what the hell is happening by turning my palms up toward the ceiling.

"That's for not letting me fuck you last night." she says in a serious voice as she makes her way over to the sink.

I know she's teasing me. I've been fooled.

"But I ... You ..."

I'm pretty sure I didn't actually deny her that last night.

"I guess you'll have to wait until you get back from work." she quickly continues to explain.

Teasing. No doubt about that. She wants me to wait all day, in anticipation. Oh, that little bitch. I'll be worked up all day around my colleagues and they will have no idea why.

"Brittany, you can't let me go to work like this."

She smirks and takes off her wet dress in front of me. Sure, being completely naked will definitely help me get my act together again.

"Are you serious?"

I'm not sure if I should be mad or excited about the whole thing. She takes a towel out of the cabin and dries every part of her body before she decides to answer my confused behavior.

"It'll be worth it."

Her sexy voice is accompanied by a wink. The aching between my legs is only growing, but this is her way of working me up. She steals the undies I had prepared to put on and also confiscates the pair of jeans and my cute, loose green blouse.

"What are you doing? I'm wearing that today."

She doesn't listen, obviously, because twenty seconds later, she's fully dressed. Great, now she has taken off with my outfit for the day, too.

"See you tonight, babe!" she amusingly screams as she leaves the bathroom to flee the house.

_Now this is what I call a cold shower_.


	10. DAY 84 - Baking passion

**Day Eighty Four.**

One day last month, she randomly came up with a passion to bake. She had never touched a pan or a kitchen knife or switched the buttons of the fire on or off, but it came to her in a dream: she'd be a good chef. So now, all we ever do is bake. For the last thirty days, we have done nothing but making muffins, pies and chocolate cookies and I can't say that I hate it. Truth be told, she's not as horrible at it as I thought she'd be and the house smells like a bakery 24/7. But just like with everything she does, acting normal is not her kind of thing. The kitchen of her house is now stocked with equipment we'll never use twice. There are even two aprons, but I refuse to put it on. My eyes open up to catch the first glimpse of the day and the sunlight hurts my head. I drank too much last night. _Damn, tequila_. A bad habit I'll never know how to quit. When I stretch my hand to find her perfect body lying next to me, it turns out to be a failure. All sniffing and growling, I turn around to confirm my suspicion: she's not in bed anymore. _Where could she be?_ As I get up and put on an oversized T-shirt and some fresh new panties from her drawer, my ears pick up on some clinging noises from another room in the house. They recognize the sound of a whisk, being smashed against the sides of a cooking bowl every other second. _Not again_! When I enter the kitchen after brushing my teeth, there she is, obsessively measuring little pots of ingredients and putting them together so she can mix them to a solid whole. I silently stare at her for a while. The locks of hair that come falling down her bare shoulders move from left to right as she refuses to stop and think for a second. All she's wearing are some hotpants and her favorite T-shirt to fall asleep in. _She's so freaking sexy_. It's time to move in, I decide, so my body presses itself against hers, which surprises her a little bit. My arms find their way passed her waist to her tummy.

"You're already up." she notices.

I nod with my head buried in her neck and kiss her jaw line. My breasts are pressed against her back and I can tell she's not wearing a bra either. My nipples are hard because she forgot to turn on the central heating in all her baking enthusiasm when she woke up, and she suddenly becomes aware of that.

"So, someone's in a mood." is her snarky observation.

I shake my head and start to chuckle: "It's just so damn cold in here."

She sounds disappointed after hearing my explanation, which almost breaks my heart. This girl is like an unstoppable sex machine - not that I mind, though. My lips get pressed against her soft skin again. Somehow, after all the time we spend having sex and being clingy, I can never get enough of kissing or feeling her. The stirring in the bowl of dough in front of her slows down when my hands move up under her shirt. Her breasts are covered with goosebumps when I touch them and in an instant, her small, light brown nipples turn hard as a rock. She laughs softly through her lips that remain firmly pressed on each other. I could be in for some morning naughtiness - at least that's what my body tells me. My left hand leaves her chest in control of the other and hoovers down her skin to that toned ass that makes me jealous every time I see it. Those hotpants are God's way of telling me: "The day I made her, I was bragging. This is my gift to you. Now go and play with it." I squeeze the flesh of her butt and make sure that some of my nails leave their mark. She squeals and drops the whisk by accident.

"Santana!" she protests, trying to gain focus again. "Just one more minute and it's ready to be put in the oven."

But my attack on her neck stops her shoulder that's trying to push me back. It only grows by the second that passes. Even though I'm a little bit smaller than her, I manage to kiss her all the way to her collar bone. Her slight kneeling out of enjoyment might help.

"You really don't have a minute, do you?"

I shake my head impatiently without saying a word. I just keep kissing her. Her skins tastes like sugar. She smirks and puts some of the dough that's on her finger on top of my nose. I back away and frown. She's gonna pay for that, though. We end up fighting with the sticky substance until she literally tackles me to the floor. My back hits the ice cold tiles hard, but I don't really mind. I like it rough sometimes and she knows that. She straddles me and her muscled legs touch my skin. It sends shivers all the way through my body. The top of her nose is white, thanks to the flour she's been using. There's also a little smudge of dough sticking above her blonde eyebrow.

"Do you have any idea how cute you are?"

She bends over and keeps her head three inches away from mine.

"I try not to think about it all the time, but I am aware of it." she tells me in such a serious voice, that a stranger might believe her.

She's so complacent that it makes her cute. Yeah, only Brittany herself can get away with it. I do the same thing all the time, but people - I specifically talking about Rachel Berry - call me a bitch instead.

"Now stay here and don't move. I'm going to put the cake in the oven and then I'm going to fuck you."

It's such a lovely promise that I immediately obey. We're not really good at all the normal sweet talk couples usually do.

"Why are you so excited to put that cake in the oven?"

"Because I want to eat it, later today. Don't you?"

"I want to eat _you_ ... out."

She's shocked by my rare graphical way of expressing my desire, but at the same time, I see that thrilled, crazy and turned on blinking in her eyes. A cake has never been thrown in the oven as fast as she manages it to do. The timer and temperature are set in the blink of an eye, before she straddles me again.

"So now what? The couch, the bed, the shower? You do look kind of dirty."

"That's because you made me dirty." I respond.

She enjoys my comment and nods. But then, she just wants to get back to business.

"Now, I recall you were telling me something about lunch?" she says as she puts a fingers against her mouth.

I frown an eyebrow and need her to explain a little bit more.

"You know, about eating and stuff."

"Oh, right. The cake!" I say in a husky, teasing way.

Her eyes light up as she discovers the playfulness of my words. "That's right. The cake. Now, let's see if you like the flavor."

We play around with words long enough to lose the actual metaphorical meaning of them. We don't care, though. After that, I lick the dough off her body, just like God intended.

"I want to do things to you that will make the neighbors want to move." I tell her.

She's not too fond of that idea, though: "My neighbors are my family. That would be awkward."

I smile: "I promise it'll be worth it."

My hands make sure that her shirt gets pulled over her head. They will serve as my pillow, because even though I'm planning on making her come on the floor we are lying on, it's still kind of cold ... and hard. There's arousal pilling up in my body that needs an escape and she'll always offer me one. I can't recall ever having so much sex with Jacob - or any of it being so mind-blowingly good. I think I mixed up both of them, to be honest. I'm talking about the parts they represent in my life. I thought she was my best friend and he was my lover, but it turned out to be the other way around. She's made to caress and tease my body, while he's there for my mental health whenever she's fucking with my head long enough to make me go crazy.

Pleasureful moans reverberate through the kitchen after I've taken off her hotpants and started pushing her lower body all the way up to cross my mouth. I don't kiss her at her core just yet, only at the inside of her thighs, even though I can see and smell that she's more than ready to receive. She's so wet that I wonder how the hell she got so horny so fast. But I'm the one to tell, really, I feel my panties getting soaked a little bit more with every second that passes. They stick to the inside of my own thighs like glue. Little blows or hot air stroke her wetness and it drives her slightly crazy. When I look up, the excellent view on her toned stomach and her perfect breasts is granted. I love sitting underneath her. Despite to what everybody might think it makes me feel like the powerful one at the moment. Every time an impatient, deep inhalation of air gets pulled into her lungs, that chest of hers rises like a massive wave and I love it.

"Kiss me there, San." she begs me.

I refuse to do so resistantly. I still have that shower prank she pulled on me in mind. Instead, my warm tongue slides up and down her right leg, all the way to the point where her wetness starts to slither down her skin. The soft groaning grows. _Perfect_. I shouldn't torment her this much, but there are many occasions where she's just as bad. Her body's already trembling and I haven't even touched her properly, yet.

"I'm going to get off of you if you don't start licking me right now."

It's an empty threat, because she quickly realizes that her resistance to me is inexistent right now. The thought of taking my chances on that strong impedance crosses my mind, but I have a solid plan of making her come all over my face that I don't want to risk losing. She's capable of being stubborn enough to actually crawl off of me and finish the job herself in the bedroom. She once told me that masturbation is a wonderful thing, because you're always one hundred percent sure that you're having sex with someone you love.

After a couple more seconds of teasing, all I want to do is taste her. My tongue slowly reaches her soft, warm spot, which makes her shriek relieved. It finds its way to her clitoris and circles around it in a calm pace. When I look up to her again and thrust my lips along her entrance, she's biting her lower lip. It's incredibly sexy. Her long, blonde hair is falling down her naked shoulders, while she's kneading her own boobs for pleasure. I keep licking and soaking my tongue in her wetness until her moaning has become so loud that it actually disturbs me. Never has she been this loud before. I put in a finger to maximize the feeling. She pinches her left boob so hard that it turns red. Her right hand suddenly falls down to my head and with a soft touch, she makes me stop with whatever I am doing.

"What's wrong?"

She already exhausted, but hasn't reached her climax yet. Without saying anything - she's panting too hard - she gets up, turns around and straddles me again. A second later, she bends over to plant some teasing kisses on my lower stomach. Her fingers tap at my thighs, which make me open them widely. Unlike me, the last few minutes have taken away any intention of her to torture me, and she dives right in. I guess that my actions have been paying off - that's how impatient she ended up. I shriek as soon as I recognize the warmth of her tongue against my clitoris. Her center is still hovering over my face, but I decide not to kiss her there just yet. She'll come too soon. I'm going to let her make the decision. My fingers grasp both cheeks of her sexy butt and I squeeze the flesh of it. She moans as she rapidly rubs her mouth through my wetness. Her tongue gets thrusted inside of me a few times, but after a while, an index and middle finger take over that job. All that her tongue does after that is make perfectly, round circles around my clit. I bite my tongue because it feels so good. My legs are already starting to shake. Every single time we do this, the whole _69 thingy_, we both orgasm at super speed. Her fingers feel the walls of my vagina pulling together and by the way she moves her hips, I learn that she's ready to sit back down on my face. I let her and don't waste a second to taste her fluids again. Soft, panting and excited groans escape both of our mouths, but we don't stop. Our bodies fit together so perfectly. They are like two puzzle pieces that were meant to lie on top of each other and automatically click into place. My index finger rubs her most sensitive part while I literally eat her out. My hips grind uncontrollably against her face. I can't help it, my nerves have taken over my body and they need more from her. It's longing for that awesome orgasm that's about to come and instead of waiting, it goes out to grab it. Her core is pushing along my mouth as well. We're both so close, I can feel it. My nails cut into the skin of her ass, her delighted groan tells me she likes that. The speed of her licking is accelerating, she's no longer in control of anything she's doing. For a second, her mouth leaves my center.

"I'm going to come. I'm going to come all over your face." she gasps.

I pull her hips down on top of me even tighter and present my genitals in order for her to get the hint and finish the job. It's very clear that she's struggling. She can hardly take it anymore. But she's tough and fights right through it. Her thighs are shaking like crazy against the sides of my face and in the next seconds, her fast rocking slows down surprisingly. It are the final thrusts before she removes her head from between my legs and releases a long and lustily cry.

"Oh, my fucking God." she sighs.

She lifts herself off of my face and leans on her hands and weak knees to free me from my position.

"God had very little to do with this." I grin.

She smiles out loud and bends her body so she can see my face. I want her to kiss me again. I want her to lick me until I explode inside. She turns around again, flips me over and orders me in a very dominant and sexy voice to go and sit on her face. Sitting on top of Brittany S. Pierce is the best feeling in the world, let me tell you. She moves her tongue in ways that I'll never be able to do. First, it are soft circles, then almost insensible tickles of the tip, finally hot, sloppy strokes to lick me dry. It's repeated until my mind nearly blacks out completely. Her mouth literally sucks my clit until my hips automatically move along, dreading that her touch would escape me. I grab my boobs with my eyes shut and squeeze them, imagining Brittany being the person to knead them this way. My other hand flips my unattached hair back and holds it together on top of my head. When I look down, there's the wonderful view of me riding her face. She's staring at me, at the way my chest is heavily rising up and down and the look in her eyes is so sexy. She knows I'm almost there. She knows her touch never fails to please me. Her hands grope my waist and crushes my core down her face even more. _Oh, Jesus fucking Christ_! Right now I feel every little puff of wind that's pumping oxygen into her lungs passing by my genitals. Breathing through your mouth while going down on a girl, another thing she has taught me. She thrusts her tongue deep inside of me, which causes me to gasp for air.

"Fuck!" I shriek and I feel her lips forming a smile underneath me.

Her pace doesn't slow down at all. I lose control. Three. Two. One. There it is. There's the wave that causes my body to ride her like a rodeo cowboy. I sit down so deep that I can actually feel her teeth, but I don't mind. I squeal and groan like there's no tomorrow. Thank God we don't have actual neighbors. They'd call the cops on us every single time. She keeps licking me, even though I tell her to stop. She does not listen to me. I'm too sensitive. Too fucking sensitive to go at it again right now. I pull my shattered body away from her face and crawl back down her body a little bit to crash on top of her.

"That was the best lunch ever!" I declare.

My drops of sweat are dripping down on her naked skin. She laughs, pleased with herself, and wraps her arms around me.

"The summer of 69." she says.

She always says that after we've done it. My drained head turns to face her and I chuckle: "Yeah, the summer of 69."


	11. DAY 95 - Pushed out of the closet

**Okay, next chapter! Day Ninety Five - so about 3 months after they first kissed. **

**Hope you still like the story - I keep being inspired, so I keep writing ... So I'll keep updating ;) Let me know what you guys think!**

* * *

**Day Ninety Five.**

We've been here for three hours and it's already a disaster. Quinn's standing in front of me, in the ladies' room and has the most panicking look in her eyes that I've ever seen. She's somehow shouting at me, but I'm not really sure how to react. Let's see where it went wrong. I looked at Brittany with my most vicious look every time she was about to touch or kiss me. She did an okay job listening to me, up until the part where she got comfortable enough again - actually: drunk - to forget about the rules. She sneaked up on me to steal a kiss, but I turned my head away from her and laughed at my friends as if she was playing around with me. Almost three months in and we're still hiding. The longer we keep up the act, the harder it's getting to tell anyone the truth. My dad's the only one that knows. I'm dying to tell Quinn, but Brittany and I always seem to skip the essential moment where we talk about that aspect of our relationship: the going public part. I'm not afraid to admit that I fell in love with a girl. I'm afraid to admit that it's Brittany. And I'm afraid of Jacob's reaction, _because it's Brittany_.

So, just to try and piss me off because I wouldn't let her kiss me in this public place, Brittany started dancing with the girls that are around. It worked - I got more irritated by the second and Quinn could tell. Out of nowhere, I insulted every person around me and tore down their look or behavior. I got even bitchier than usual and my precious Brittany was to blame. She acts a lot like this, lately. Every night, she wants to go out, but I can't always tag along. I have work and I need to be decent at least half of the time that I show up there. Last week, I told Jacob's secretary to go fuck herself when she wouldn't put him on the phone. It's because I was so exhausted and I got cranky. Thank God I used to sleep with her boss, though, because I know a person who got fired for a whole lot less. Fact is that I can never look that woman in the eye anymore. And Jacob's still a little bit pissed about it. I can't really blame him - but I can't actually tell him what got in to me that day, either. He's doing much better now and I couldn't be happier about it. He's not dating anyone else yet, but I get the impressing that he's coping. His fragile heart accepted that I don't belong with him - at least nog anymore. So I don't spend every night at his house anymore - that habit slowly phased out, luckily. But there are times, when I come over and cook him dinner, that I happen to fall asleep on the couch next to him while watching a movie and it's not weird at all. It still feels so good to talk to him. He really gets me, you know? Brittany gets me, too, but there's still so much hesitation when it comes to expressing her feelings that I need a second person to talk to. She's the kind of person that rather acts out when upset or happy. And by act out, I mean: find alcohol and dance.

And tonight we ended up here, with Brittany being hammered since her eighth glass of red wine while dancing around with the tramps in this place. I got jealous and I don't like being jealous. It never happened to me until I found myself in love with my best friend. Every time anybody even risked getting close to her and put her hands around my lady's waist, a raging fire started burning inside of me. Quinn poked me to draw my attention and I looked up to throw an evil look.

"What's up with you, beautiful? You look smoking hot tonight, but you don't seem to care about it?"

Rachel released the straw from her mouth and nodded.

"Yeah. You haven't even insulted me once in the last hour."

It's kind of funny how she just always expects me to be horrible to her. Quinn's eyes wandered off to Brittany, who had switched to drinking tequila.

"Forth one in ten minutes. That'll be a decent hangover. What's going on with her?"

I shrugged and tried not to stare at her too long.

"What going on with both of you, actually? You're acting all weird around each other."

Another tequila ended up behind Brittany's teeth and the desperate attempt to get drunk and slightly irritate me started to become rather enjoyable to watch.

"Britt, lay off the tequila a little bit. I'm not caring you home." I shouted across the room.

She interrupted the dancing - thank God! - and finally walked over to spend a few minutes with us. I thought that would be it. That would be the end of our uncomfortable act. It wasn't. She drank a little bit more tequila. And once she was engaged in a serious discussion with one of my oldest friends about the way my body looked like, I knew the ship had sailed. And crashed. And sank. I closed my eyes and inarticulately prayed that she wouldn't go there. But she did.

She told everyone that was involved in the discussion that she had seen me naked almost every day for the last couple of months and that she was one hundred percent sure that I had amazing tits. My hands cupped my face in a desperate way to disappear. It was embarrassing and anything but the coming out that I had imagined. I didn't come out of the closet, no, she pushed me out of it. But out of nowhere, I started laughing hysterically, because I couldn't care less that she told everyone, really. It was easy: she just offered me the opportunity to kiss her in public for the first time. So I did, just to finally shut her up.

"What are you doing?" she asked me, when she backed away, all surprised.

"You're the most annoying, terrible person I've ever met. But I love you."

She adorably smiled, even though I wasn't really sure if she realized what was going on, and put her arms around me. Then, she bent over to me again and french kissed me intensely. I enjoyed it so much that I forgot about every single person standing around us.

The next thing I knew, Quinn grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me to the restroom.

And now we're here and I have some explaining to do. Her eyes are big and I can sense some panic sneaking in her voice.

"What the hell are you doing, Santana?" she utters.

I bite my teeth and shrug all cute in an attempt to apologize.

"What are _you guys_ doing?"

Her fingers point to the other room, where I left Brittany behind. I can see she's not really dealing well.

"Well ... Britt and I are kind of ... You know."

I clap my hands and it makes no sense at all. The blonde in front of me scratches her forehead and frowns.

"Are you telling me that you are nailing your very best friend, the biggest slut in the history of _lesbianism_?"

Quinn has no tact. At all. Ever. She's even worse than me.

"Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure that _lesbianism_ isn't even a word."

She grins and crosses her arms: "I just called your girlfriend a slut and you comment on _that_?"

I shrug and fix my hair by looking at my reflection in the mirror. _Marvelous as always_.

"Brittany's not a slut. She's been around, sure. But she was a predator. And I can't say all that practice hasn't paid off."

Quinn's face contracts and she gages.

"Disgusting."

I put on my strong act again and cross my arms as well, putting the weight of my body on one leg.

"You don't know what you're missing, Q. Besides, we actually love each other and all."

Her face relaxes. I guess something in my eyes convinced her of that, even though my attitude tends to disguise my true feelings. My toughness is not working this time.

"How long has this been going on? And why haven't you told me?"

That's the thing: she's not mad about us being together, she's mad because I didn't tell her. I've always told Quinn everything about my life. And this is sort of a massive twist.

"Almost three months, I guess."

I pretend not to know that it has been exactly ninety five days since I first kissed her. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I still think back on that moment every single day. She was wearing a black skirt and a casual pink top. She looked absolutely beautiful that night, with her hair braided into a bun and her beautiful legs working up some sparkling drops of sweat thanks to all the dancing she did. I just stood there and watched an impressively hot girl walk over to her to grind their bodies against each other. I've seen her act like that many times before, but that night, something happened to me and I got jealous. She dropped it to the floor, she shook her ass - she did it all. I never liked R&B that much before. Then she lifted herself up all sensually and I found myself staring at her breasts shamelessly. I wanted to be that girl who was dancing with her. I wanted to smile at her with that naughty look in my eyes. I was intrigued by the way she pressed her lower body against the girl's upper right leg and wiggled her toned ass to the beat of the empowering music. So I did something I never expected and put myself in between Brittany's longing look with that lady and pressed myself up against her body like I had done it a million times before. She wasn't offended - dancing was all she was interested in that night, so she just danced with me instead. Her baby blue eyes softened the moment our eyes met and a charming smile colored her entire face. She looked breathtakingly beautiful. Every noise in the room faded. Every person disappeared. Every color that wasn't blue was wrong. Only her eyes were right. There was no hesitation when I dived in to kiss her in the middle of the dance floor and it immediately felt right. She was startled for a second, but the truth is that we were both intoxicated by the many drinks we had that night, and she kissed me back. It was hot as hell and my stomach just went crazy. It's the first time I ever felt butterflies in my belly. Even more, I became short of breath and clasped on to her so tightly that it freaked me out when I thought about it afterwards. She felt so good. _We_ felt so good. Her little, cute nose hovered over my left cheek when we took a break from kissing and I panted so hard that no words could be spoken. She didn't look at me, though. She held her eyes closed tightly and allowed short sighs of breath to pass along my skin. She was too surprised to apprehend what was happening. I softly sucked on her lower lip because I really wanted to feel her touch again and suddenly tension started to work its way to my core. My body overreacted and I got turned on by what we were doing. That's when I stopped and backed away from her. I laughed sillily as if I was playing around and disappeared right after that. She was way too drunk to ever remember, I assumed. I was wrong.

"Three freaking months and you haven't told me? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" Quinn shouts at me.

I didn't expect her to react this way. But frankly, I didn't expect to come out in front of her like this, either.

"No, not at all, really. Because you would've run off the second you found out and you would've told the Israeli Hobbit."

"Her name is Rachel. And she's American."

"I know that." I reply quite arrogantly. "But it pisses you off when I call her that, so I keep doing it."

She smirks and wiggles her nose twice until she's ready to think things through.

"Does Jacob know? I mean, she's his cousin."

I snort sarcastically and roll my eyes: "Yeah, I'm reminded of that _every_ day. That's why it's been this big of a secret. I don't want to hurt him."

She's putting one and one together when she asks me if Brittany's the reason why we broke up. I nod quietly.

"Wow, Santana. I'm still shocked." she utters after a silent moment.

I smile and raise my eyebrows meaningfully. _I can tell._

"Is the sex good?"

Of course she's going to ask me that. A mysterious expression takes over my entire face and I'm not really sure if I want to tell her the truth. But she immediately notices that something's not being said, so her husky voice repeats the word "_please_" while she's clutching my lower arm until I finally cave in with a big smile on my face.

"It's _amazing_, okay?" I admit.

It feels so liberating to say it. Quinn's jaw drops.

"It's mind-blowingly amazing. I mean, the things she does to me, it's ..."

My hands are making all kinds of gestures when I notice a doubtful change in Quinn's expression, so I immediately stop being so graphic.

"It's too weird to tell you, but - just believe me when I tell you that it's _good_."

"Really?"

It's like she can't believe it. She knows I had quite some boyfriends in the past, so this is really surprising her.

"But we're having _too_ much sex." I eventually tell her as I fix my mascara with my pinky.

My good friend looks at me in the mirror.

"How can you ever have too much sex?" she wants to know.

"When your vagina hurts when you laugh, you're having too much sex."

The terrified look in her eyes amuses me, but I'm actually being serious about it. I press my lips tightly and nod sympathetically before I leave the restroom. On my way to find my girlfriend again, we pass Rachel, who's wearing a leather skirt and a white blouse. Some big, nerdy glasses makes her more strict than she actually is.

"You know, Rachel, you look like a teenage, S&M fetish-inspired, puppet. But I can't really say I hate it."

Quinn, who's standing behind me, laughs out loud and pats me on the back.

"What's going on?" Rachel asks without being too offended by what I just said.

"Britt and Santana are totally doing it, that's what's going on." Quinn replies bluntly.

But the brunette is confused and frowns. "What do you mean, _they are doing it_?"

Quinn slaps her stretched out hand against her fist and bends over to make herself more comprehensible: "Doing it. Have sex. Nailing each other. Humping each other. _Doin' the nasty_."

I turn around and throw an evil look: "That'll do, Quinn."

She's just bragging about her vocabulary now. When I look over to face Rachel, I can tell she's completely shocked. Her oversized mouth is wide open and I guess the little leprechauns living inside of it might finally escape now. I shrug and smile confidently. That look on her face is priceless, really.

I find my girlfriend talking to a random girl when we enter the main room. Adorable Brittany, totally unstable on her feet, chatting up with every girl that's throwing herself in front of her feet. I grab her by the arm and her face immediately lights up entirely.

"I told Quinn everything." I tell her.

The other girl leaves us alone. Brittany bends over because the music's too loud. But after a second, she catches up with what I just said. She doesn't respond, though, she just stares straight at my boobs. Granted, they are a little bit flamboyant in this top.

"Brittany, are you even listening to me?"

She looks up to smile apologetic. She's so cute, even when she's hammered.

"I'm sorry, your boobs are distracting me."

"You are terrible." I tell her as I release an exhausted, amused sigh.

"No, _you_ are terrible, putting them in my face like that."

I chuckle and shake my head: "I'm not putting them in your face."

The look in her eyes changes when she bends over to whisper in my ear.

"Well, you should."

_You little devil._


	12. DAY 96 - Family dinner

**Things go horribly bad during a dinner party ... Hope you guys enjoy it !**

**The next chapter's going to be extremely intense - working hard on it right now!**

* * *

**Day Ninety Six.**

It's early in the morning when my alarm clock wakes us up. _Jesus fucking Christ, I'm going to die!_ Next to me, there's a girl who literally breathes out the stench of alcohol. Oh, no, wait, I'm just as hungover and I smell probably as bad. Everything hurts: the sunlight, the mattress, the blanket, the noises coming from outside, gravity in general, ...

"How drunk was I?" I moan in pain.

She's hiding her face in the pillow in a desperate attempt to escape the early morning sun. I can't help but smile despite the headache.

"I've never seen you like that, Santana. You asked me if I was single." she mumbles.

I giggle and scrunch my nose. _I did?_

"Seriously: drunk you is a full-blown lesbian with no shame at all."

"I must have learned from the best." is my snarky response.

She laughs in the fabric, but then lifts her head to finally reveal the state she's in. I'm intrigued by the story, though.

"Did I score? Or did you blow me off?"

I throw myself on top of her in anticipation and it hurts every little part of her body. Air escapes her lungs in a squeaking way. Even though it's not sexy at all, I need to kiss her. I taste her lips and conclude: _yep, still tastes like tequila_.

"Well, we did wake up together. So, I guess that's the first clue."

She snorts and turns her head for a second to discover that it's eight in the morning. Way too early for the girl.

"No, but seriously, did we have sex last night because I honestly can't remember."

She's not too embarrassed to admit.

"Yeah, we did. I was very tired, but you insisted." I answer, not offended at all.

I almost can't remember myself.

"Sure, _I was very tired_." she repeats after me with a lot of sarcasm.

I get off of her and roll out of bed. Too tired and sick to move, she struggles to find some funny reactions through all the headache that's torturing her head.

"But it's okay, Santana. I understand that you want to take advantage of me while I'm drunk. I'd do the same - I mean: have you seen me?"

She's so self-confident. Sometimes, I'm not really sure if she's serious or just joking. I grab a pillow and throw it on top of her head. It hits her in the face, which causes her to squeal. Wow, she really has it bad. I'm amazed that we managed to get our pajamas on after the rolling around around five am. I guess it was cold in the room.

"Get up, we need to go to your parents." I order her.

The entire reason why my alarm was set. She has no memory of that invitation and shakes her head totally unconvinced. She thinks I'm joking.

"Did they invite us _both_?" she finally asks.

"No, just me, but I obviously had to bring you along."

She doesn't catch the sarcasm in my phrase, so I explain that it's a family dinner kind of thing. While everyone's still confused about the break up with Jacob, they still invite me to avoid discussions. And Gramps and Grams really like me a lot. They had hoped that I'd marry their grandson. It's awkwardly weird, now, because I'll be holding Brittany's hand under the table, while sitting next to Jacob. Well, figuratively. I hope they won't put me next to him, though.

"I don't want to go. I want a family-free day." she pouts.

I fake an enormous smile and put my left hand on her shoulder. Her blue puppy eyes are not working this time - there's still eye redness after the drinking fest.

"And I want a whiskey sour with a slice of lemon. That's right: not gonna happen either. Get up!"

* * *

It's a festive barbecue they've organized - such a surprise for the conservative family. Britt and I arrive at the _party_ as a pair and it's not weird at all: we spend all our time together, everybody knows that. Her parents are already here. They're such sweethearts. Well, at least her mom is. She has the exact same personality like her daughter - apart from the emotional distancing. Susan is the bubbly and goofy woman that everyone wants to meet and it's always fun being around her. She greets me with a warm hug, while Brittany's dad, Bruce, walks over and pats me on the back. He's a bit of a strange guy - super smart kind of strange - but nonetheless very warm and welcoming every time I stop by their house. I don't understand how Susan and Jacob's dad, Alex, can be related, though. The contrast is undeniable. Alex is a grumpy, businessman and he's totally worn out. He's the most baggy person I've ever met. He _is_ my boss, so I need to stay respectful and, thankfully, as his former potential daughter-in-law, the two years I spend dating his only son has made him aware of my many talents, so he softened up to me a little bit already. Jacob's mother is a lot nicer, but I don't support her choice to marry a guy she doesn't love: she's crucified to a life of obedience and walking in the shadow of her husband, and she accepts that as long as she gets her monthly pocket-money. Jacob told me she has a secret lover, but it's a public secret - not very uncommon in the household, apparently. Gramps has had many lady lovers over the last couple of years. Nobody ever seemed to care.

Strange family, I tell you. No wonder Brittany's this screwed up.

The moment Jacob makes his way over to the courtyard, my girlfriend suddenly starts to act jumpy. She has avoided every occasion where the three of us were together ever since we started sleeping together. She doesn't want to lie to her cousin, because even though she's happy that I picked her over him, she loves him very much.

"Oh, my God, Santana. I can't do this. He'll figure it out and then he'll kill me. You know how he is: he's super smart and stuff."

"Relax, Brittany. He won't notice a thing." I try to calm her down.

But she's not buying it and her eyes blink numerous times: "You know how I stare at you all the time. And at your boobs. Look at what you're wearing. I'm staring at them right now."

I tilt my head and pinch the glass that's in between my fingers instead of getting mad at her. Did she just offend me?

"Would you mind!? I put on my best dress for this occasion. _And_ because I wanted to look nice for you."

An effort that misses the desired effect: she just pours out the entire glass of champagne in her mouth and sighs.

"I'm such an idiot. I mean, I never expected a situation where I'd have to apologize for sleeping with his girlfriend _a second time_."

My eyes widen as I turn my head to face her: "Excuse me?"

"I was sixteen. The girl was experimental-friendly. He was really, really mad when he found out."

When a waiter walks by, she picks another glass of champagne from the serving tray he's holding. Jacob smiles at me and walks over after he shook hands with the rest of the family. I notice how Brittany subtly steps away from me and fixes her blond hairdo.

"Calm your tits." I silently snap.

Her reaction is priceless, though, because she looks genuinely offended: "_What_ the fuck did you just say to me?"

Jacob intrudes just in time to greet both of us. He smiles softly when he forces our eyes to meet and presses a soft kiss on my cheek. The same gesture is repeated when he greets Brittany. We chitchat, because there aren't really other interesting people around to talk to and after a couple of minutes, Britt seems to relax again. Gramps and Grams join the family and immediately invite us to sit down at the festive table. I'm sad because it's inside. Such a lovely, warm day to be outside and I have to spend it in the darkness of that castle. I look around and notice how sophisticated everyone's looking today. I have no idea why we're all invited to spend the afternoon together, but I'm pretty sure all of it will be addressed after the main course. I know the way this family works by now. I'm practically part of it.

* * *

Fate is being a bitch when I end up being seated next to Jacob. Brittany's facing me and she doesn't seem pleased. There's nothing I can do about it, though. When Grams notes down her schedule, all a person can do is obey. The entire group has their eyes focussed on the former couple, Jacob and I. They all hope that we'll reconnect, get married and have some kids. Two boys would be favorable. But I don't want to have children with Jacob. I want to have children with Brittany, when she's finally ready to commit.

Halfway through the long lunch date, Gramps bores us with a speech about the economical instability of the world. I know all these things from watching the news, and I bet all the others are fully aware about the crisis as well. Heck, even Brittany doesn't seem to get educated by his little facts and notes - that says quite a lot for a girl who gets most of her mundane and economical updates from social media sites. Jacob's being genuinely nice to me and I love that we are still such good friends despite all the things that have happened. But every time he approaches me to whisper in my ear - when the majority of the group is being a little bit too loud - I can count the burning eyes that are observing us. I can also count the two baby blue eyes that are uncomfortable with all of it. This table is so massively big that I hardly get the opportunity to talk to Brittany. We're distanced by an enormous chandelier and some royally filled dinner-trays of food. I wish I could hold her hand.

Alex, Jacob's father, suddenly remarks that the blonde rebel of the family should probably think about finishing one of her many college trainings if she ever dreams about participating in the family business. I sigh and turn my head. _Not again._ Bruce doesn't like the way his brother-in-law is talking about his precious daughter, though. He thinks his tone is empowered by a lack of respect and pure mockery. I agree.

"Brittany's old enough to make her own decisions." Bruce says.

But Alex rejects that point of view.

"She has switched subjects at least three times the last two years. The only established young lady in this family is Santana, and she's not even one of us, _yet_."

Although I should feel flattered, I am offended by the way he just assumes that I'll marry his son. _And_ I hate the way he talks about Brittany.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but the fact that Brittany can't seem to pick a fitting subject doesn't mean she's not capable of successfully participating in a company. Because, if you ask me, she's a genius."

My comment shuts them up immediately. But I'm not done yet. I get protective when it comes to Brittany.

"Besides, does the fact that I work at your company automatically result in me being successful? I envy Brittany, with her constant eager to discover the world and all of its obstacles. She'd make a great addition to the company if she'd ever plan on committing to that."

Alex is surprised with my cheekiness and smiles intriguingly. _Shit, for a second I forgot that he's my boss. Santana, you idiot_. As soon as I find Brittany's sad eyes, I know that I've done the right thing. Her family doesn't think much of her, even though her parents support her in everything she does. She has learned to live with that aspect of her family, though, because even now, she just sits back and listens to what other people have to say about her.

Jacob's ready to interfere as well, because he puts his hand on top of mine - like he's expecting me to shut up, sit back and listen to him - and clears his throat. I'm startled by the offensive, sexist gesture.

"Look, uncle - and Santana. I think my father is saying that we can all agree that Brittany has ... other qualities than we do."

He's as tactful as a carrot, just like his parents. He should date Quinn, they'd make a perfect couple.

"The future of the company is obviously in Jacob's hands, you should just accept that." Alex emphasizes.

Finally, Gramps opens his mouth. He once started the family business, so it's fair that he gets a saying in all of this ridiculousness.

"Why is that, Alex? Because he's your child or because he the only guy in the family?"

His son-in-law doesn't have a quick answer to that, and for once in my life, I'm so happy to see my boss struggling.

"Well, it's pretty obvious that my son would follow in my footsteps, isn't it? I mean, I've been managing the company for the last six years now and it's going great."

Susan laughs over his comment and disagrees: "You're not the CEO, dear Alex. We are equal shareholders, but I prefer to occupy myself with less publicly visible aspects of keeping our business alive."

Jacob steps in: "Okay, aunt Susan, I accept that and I _respect_ that, but don't you agree that Brittany's probably not as interested in taking over my father's tasks as I am?"

But my girl's snapping out of her reservedness before anyone else gets the chance to answer that question.

"Why would you think that, Jacob? Maybe I _do_ want to run a company when I'm ready for it. I think I could. You don't know anything about my qualities."

I look over to witness the change of attitude she radiates. Her cousin gloats over her response and sits up straight.

"Brittany, giving girls an orgasm isn't a quality." he utters presumptuously.

Grams and Gramps look shocked, but Susan and I form an awesome harmony when we recklessly pick up on his words with a snarky "Oh, I think it is."

He looks at me and frowns, totally confused about my reaction. After realizing that I might have said too much, I take a sip of wine.

Alex makes a final effort by waving his hand up in the air to draw some attention. This table really is too big for a normal conversation to take place. Not that any of this is normal.

"So, sure, you can sweet talk a bunch of women in your bed, so what? That doesn't make you a great business woman."

"There's more to me than being gay, uncle." she says with enough anger in her voice.

I wish I could confirm that out loud.

Grams decides that enough is enough and ends the conversation before it gets even nastier. She informs us that dessert's coming up and Jacob excuses himself to visit the restroom. That's when my eyes urge her to get up and walk over to me. She sits down on Jacob's chair and smiles.

"I am so sorry, Brittany." I whisper silently. "I had no idea they were going to put me next to him and now _this_. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." she bravely utters. "A typical Saturday lunch, right?"

I sense sadness in her voice and for a second, I want to caress her cheek, but I can't. My eyes try to express what I'm feeling and something in her behavior tells me that she picks up on it. Her fingers play with the hem of my white cocktail dress, which allows goosebumps to take over the skin of my upper legs. I take my lips and put them right next to her right ear, because I feel like I really need to get something off my heart: "I really want to kiss you right now."

She gets all warm and fuzzy and smirks the most adorable smirk that I've ever seen. But Jacob kind of interrupts the perfect, secretive moment when he reenters the room. It evidently causes Brittany to get up to wander over to her own seat again.

"Pretty boring, right?" he asks me as he sneaks up on me to sit back down.

He knows I'm not interested in all of this. I shrug and tell him it's not that bad after all.

"At least the food's good."

He agrees.

"And the company is too, if you ask me."

_So freaking charming_.

"After the dessert, we can go outside again. Gramps has a speech prepared for us and he want to give it in the open air."

I scrunch my nose and don't even try to hide my disappointment: "Another one?"

He smiles softly and offers a refill of the delicious wine we're having. I accept his offer.

But then I notice a paper napkin on my lap that wasn't there before. My fingers cautiously unfold the fabric until I find a familiar handwriting, leaving me a message. It says "I love you", and it's signed with the ugliest drawing of a heart ever. I chuckle and put my hand in front of my mouth with suppressed joy. Afterwards, I lift my head to cross her eyes. Her cheeks are flushed and it's _so_ adorable to witness. But Susan, her mom, draws her attention with some questions about the current progress of her education and she has to pull back from the lovely moment we're sharing. That doesn't stop me from staring at her, though. I realize that I'm not even trying. I'm not even _thinking_ about trying. I memorize the way her long hair falls down her shoulders and caresses her pale skin every time she moves her head up and down while answering her mother's questions. Her freckles are more visible than ever in this lovely sunlight and the dark blue dress she's wearing brings out the color of her eyes like it was personally designed for her. My eyes focus on the pink, thin lips that taste so good. My mind's finally catching up with my heart and it's happening right this second: we shouldn't hide what we're feeling for each other anymore. This is so pure and real ... and wonderful. Nothing has ever put such a mysterious and heartwarming glow on my face before. She's the best thing that has ever happened to me, so why lie about it? Jacob is a grown man. The truth will obviously hurt him, but frankly, sometimes it's better to rip off the bandage instead of slowly peeling it off. I squeeze the soft fabric that's still in my hands and snap out of it when I suddenly spy an observant Jacob looking at me from the right side of the table. The napkin gets tucked away under my buttocks and I just smile at him nicely.

"You're staring at her." he remarks.

"What?"

"You're staring at Brittany."

"What? I'm not."

I'm throwing in a fainted smile and turn my head away from him. But my lying act fails terribly. He's convinced that his eyes did not deceive him.

"Yes, you are. You are _staring_ at her and it's _disgusting_."

It's just loud enough for a couple of the others to hear as well. Brittany's one of them and she quickly turns around to search the fierce voice that uttered the words. I feel bad lying to him, but the thing he just said is offensive and rude and I decide that I won't allow him to talk to me with such disrespect. Sometimes, he reminds me so much of his father.

"I wasn't. And fuck you, by the way." I tell him as I get off of my chair to walk out of the room. The rest of the family just sits back and can only speculate about what's happening. Brittany immediately knows what's going on, though, because, just like her cousin, she rises from her chair to chase after me. I flee to the courtyard again and take a few deep breaths to think things through.

He figured it out. He figured it out and I don't know what to do. I made up my mind just a second before he commented on us, but as soon as I had the chance to be honest about it, my nerves took over and I lied to him.

Out of nowhere, a big hand grabs me by the arm to turn me around. It's Jacob and the look in his eyes is terrifying me.

"You slut." he shouts at me.

I back away from him and release myself from his grip.

"Jacob!"

"Tell me what I saw wasn't real." he begs me in a suddenly much softer voice. "Tell me that I'm imagining things."

He saw the napkin. He saw it. Full-blown panic mode, just like most his family members are so good at. I don't want to hurt his feelings, but I can't ignore the facts any longer. Even though it crosses my mind, my heart decides that lying won't solve anything. So my body freezes and I shut my mouth because there's nothing I can tell him that'll make him feel better. I just remain silent and that tells him everything. My heart breaks to see him like this. His eyes get teary and before I find a proper way to react, he storms off to leave the party. By the time that he's out of my sight, Brittany has finally made her way over to me.

"What the fuck?" she asks nervously.

"He knows. Jacob knows."

She looks over to the part of the courtyard where Jacob disappeared and looks absolutely terrified.

"Fuck." she sighs while she closes her eyes.

* * *

"So, you two are ..."

"Yeah." Brittany stutters uncomfortably.

She's sitting at the couch, while her mother's standing in front of her, arms crossed.

"And it's ... I mean, it's serious?"

The girl looks up to her mom and nods. I'm kind of hiding in the kitchen, while peeping through the little door opening. Susan's upset about the whole thing. Sure, she knows that her daughter is a lesbian, she even knows about her impressive record, but still, stealing her nephew's girlfriend is just too much to handle right now.

"This is awkwardly disturbing, honey. I mean ... Santana was Jacob's girlfriend. The love of his life."

_Nice touch, Susan_. Brittany scrunches her nose and secretly smiles.

"Not anymore."

Her mother, just as gentle and crazy as she is, oppresses that same snarky smile and clears her throat to go along with her parental act.

"I didn't know Santana was into girls."

"Neither do I." Brittany says.

_And neither do I_. I put my ear against the door so I can understand the women a little bit better.

"So she's gay now? Like you are gay?" Susan wants to know.

She's not mad or disgusted, like Jacob was. The woman simply tries to analyze the situation.

"I don't know if she's gay." Brittany shrugs.

"But she's your girlfriend."

Her daughter nods and starts to think about what that really means.

"Yeah, she is. But she isn't, like, really, officially out of the closet gay or anything. It's just ... She's in love with me."

The oldest of the two blondes squeezes her eyes and frowns: "I don't get it."

"I'm the exception." Brittany proudly smiles.


	13. DAY 207 - Horseback riding

**Fun chapter. Brittany's birthday is coming up and Santana lets her do whatever she wants ... Except she didn't expect horseback riding to be an option.**

* * *

**Day Two Hundred and Seven **

Eight months in. It almost feels like a miracle. I've never felt this happy in my entire life, such a fucking cliché, right? Brittany seemed to have calmed down a bit. We don't go out that often anymore and I'm glad she has found that softer side of herself. The part that likes to hang out at home with me and Lord Tubbs, while watching old school Disney cartoons and Nickelodeon all day long. I don't think she'll ever grown up completely, to be honest, but I don't care. We're living together now - officially. She ordered some people of the staff to go and find every single thing that belongs to me at Jacob's and bring them here. It's weird - I've been living at these mansions for so long instead of just going home again. I've stayed with Jacob for months after we broke up because I felt sorry for him. But this _feels_ like home. Everything about it feels like home. I can't imagine living somewhere else anymore. Like, not even at my own parents'. I've left that house almost three ago. Brittany's my home - I discovered. She'll always be, no matter _where_ she'll be.

Tomorrow is my baby's birthday. So I offer her the chance to do anything she wants. I pray to God she won't say 'food fight'.

"Horseback riding." is the second worse thing I could think of.

But my entire body freezes when the words sink in and I withdraw my blank request card instantly: "Um, let's _not_."

I can tell she's disappointed. That pouty lip appears, so it'll only be a matter of seconds until every spark of resistance inside of me will melt like snow on a sunny beach.

"Why? Come on, we never do anything fun anymore!"

I object: "Yes, we do. Last week, we went to a party and we ..."

But ironically, I can't come up with anything else. So much for valid arguments.

"And that's it. Come on, please. I never ask you to do anything."

"Oh, no? Funny, I seem to remember quite some occasions where you wake me up in the middle of the night. And then there are those which involve leather and costumes and -"

But she catapults my arguments with a nicely put "Oh, please! Like you mind!"

I cross my arms and pout myself: I don't want to go horseback riding!

She begs me with her eyes: "Please, just _once_. Why are you so afraid of it?"

I'm offended. Santana Lopez _never_ gets afraid. I mean, in reality, I'm scared shitless, but I'll never ever admit it. Her family has a shitload of horses, preciously kept in the impressive stables on the other side of the estate. I don't even know why. I mean: who on earth would want to own a horse, an animal that's capable of eating you alive? Well, maybe that's not entirely true. I just don't trust those bitches. They pretend to be nice, but whenever they see the opportunity, they just flip you off their back. Kind of like Quinn, most of the time. But then there's Brittany, staring into my eyes like a little puppy. A little, adorable, totally _fuckable_ puppy, really. A deep sigh escapes my preserved and cold attitude. I'm defeated.

"_Fine_." I cave in, totally _not_ happy about it.

_It's official: I'm gonna die today. I'll be the prettiest corpse ever._

A little victory dance takes place in front of me and it's so adorable that I just can't help but smile. Why does she have this effect on me?

"I'll tell everyone to come over now! Let's turn it into a group thing!"

I sigh, all charmed. Always those big ideas.

* * *

I guess ten people eventually find their ways to the immense premises. Really, a quite, romantic picnic just couldn't do for the girl. But it's her birthday weekend and I get that she's in for some fun. Sadly, this'll only make the embarrassment bigger if I happen to fall down one of those massive, cow-like creature. She dressed me up like an Olympic jockey - completely ridiculous, with a helmet and all - and _only_ because it's her special weekend, I don't object. The white horse I'm assigned to just stares at me without blinking once and since I've always heard that horses have impressive people skills, I'm convinced that this one's already planning on kicking me off his back.

The after party is what's keeping me courageous. Rachel offered to organize a little event at the old pool house. It's perfect, really, because we are allowed to tear the place down _and_ I can go around and tell everyone that it was my idea. Rachel won't even dare to protest. And if she does anyway, I'll push her into the pool. _Perfect plan_.

I look around.

_There are horrifying creatures everywhere. And then there are the horses. _

I smirk, because that one was actually funny. I mean, there are some people I don't recognize, but the majority of them has dared to talk to me before. Of course Quinn and Rachel are present. And that guy Mike. I don't know him very well, since I try to avoid as much socially acceptable contact with people as possible, but he used to be in a dance group with Brittany. I also spy that guy Finn. He's such an idiot - thinks he invented fire when he lit a match one day. That chubby loser and Rachel used to date and let me tell you: those were the most agonizing days of my life. Every time he kissed her, I expected his massive body to accidentally swallow her or something. And always with those dramatic break ups, just to run back to each other a week later. Like, Jesus Christ - just make up your mind already. They're broken up now and the world is so happy about it! And then there's my ex-boyfriend Puck. He's suck an ass, but - starting to think about it - probably the most matching boyfriend I ever dated. And a pretty great guy to be friends with. All the others don't matter. No, really, I'm fine with having just a couple of friends. I don't like meeting new people, because they'll all just end up hurting or disappointing you. So I hang out with the ones that I've grown to like or love. Even the Hobbit, but she can never know.

Finally, Brittany catches my eye. She's the _only_ person that matters here. The only one that will ever get me on one of these crowbait figures. Just when everybody's starting to crawl on top of them, I freeze. Brittany figures it out and subtly approaches me.

"What's wrong?" she asks, while rubbing my back for extra encouragement.

"I can't. I really want to do this for you, Brittany, I do, but I can't. This thing hates me."

She smirks and pets the horse on its neck.

"She doesn't. And her name is Victoria."

"Victoria? That bitch from Revenge is called Victoria. She's pure evil." I panic.

Brittany's very amused. I always treat fiction television characters as if they are real. But I'm normally never afraid of anything. I gasp and look at all the others around me. They're ready to leave. Even Quinn mastered to get on a horse. Who knows, maybe she used the Hobbit's back as a stepladder.

"Look, I really can't do this." I emphasize again. "I mean, I don't even know how to use one of _these_?"

I quickly raise the whip that she put into my right boot to show her what I'm talking about. It makes a sound as if it's slicing the air and the horse, who's reins are firmly squeezed between my sweaty fingers, suddenly bounces off his front feet and starts to neigh. My entire body gets pulled along with the impressive creature and I shriek, because I'm totally surprised _and_ scared. I literally get lifted from the ground for a whole second.

_It's going to kill me! _

Brittany saves my day by grabbing the reins herself to pull the horse back down.

"It's okay, Victoria, it's okay." she whispers, while caressing it between the eyes.

Then, she faces me, seriously annoyed.

"Santana! You can't do that. It scares her."

"_Her_?" I ask all offended. "Do I exhale relaxing impressions?"

She takes the whip away from me and tosses it to the side. Then, her genius brain starts working, because she squeezes her eyes and presses her lips firmly together.

"What if we share the horse? I'll sit behind you. That way I can hold you in my arms all ride long and you won't die."

The way she puts it suddenly sounds much more appealing. I nod like an innocent child.

We can do that!

I can sit on a horse while Brittany is holding me!

Yes, I can!

So brave, cute Brittany entwines her fingers to help me get up on the saddle and I do as I'm told. _Thank God I'm athletic_. I wonder how fat people manage to climb one of these. Like Finn. Looking at him, it reminds me of an ass sitting on top of an ass. My legs are shaking like crazy as long as I'm up on the animal by myself, but she quickly pulls herself up to sit down behind me. Her perfect body is pressed against mine and I feel so much saver immediately. It's anything but comfortable, since it pushes me all the way forward, to the curved edge of the saddle, but I'm not complaining at all. She puts both feet through the stirrups and lays her fingers on the reins. Quinn and the others are starting to become impatient, so they yell at us to hurry up a bit.

"Shut up, Fabray!" I shout back while still getting used to the height.

Brittany shushes me lovingly, because let's face it, the girl's always trying to make me a better person, and kisses me in the neck after nodding approvingly to Quinn. We're ready.

* * *

The longer we're on this little adventure, the more my body finally manages to relax. The weather is wonderful today. There's sunshine and gentle breezes. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that I got stuck in the middle of a western classic. I'm mumblingly singing along to the only song that I remember involving a horse - Taylor Swift's White Horse - when we pass the third, boring empty field. Seriously, no matter how nice the view is, this really isn't a thrilling experience. There's not even a cow to make fun of. This horseback riding thingy is way too dull for me, but apparently, everybody else seems to enjoy it. Brittany's been doing this ever since she was a little girl. It's kind of a rich thing, I believe. And Quinn, Rachel, Finn, Puck and ... you know, _the_ _nameless_ _others_, are galloping up and down the roads and through the fields like crazy people. I warned Brittany about a half an hour ago that if she dares to speed this horse up even one mile per hour, I'll never kiss her again. Luckily, she very obedient.

"I love your voice." she surprises me while putting her chin on my shoulder.

But as soon as I realize that she's listening along, my singing stops and I get embarrassed.

"Oh, don't stop!" she protests. "Come on, you have an amazing voice!"

"I can't, Brittany. Besides, it's an awfully depressing song."

She agrees and laughs out loud. I feel so save in her embrace. Her hands hold the reins in my lap and she has no other choice but sit almost on top of me, but I know she's happy to do so. The horse is nice and gentle for me, though. Sometimes it snorts and that surprises me, but I'm slowly getting used to it. The only thing that's kind of annoying is the way my pubic bone is forcibly pushed against the leather of the saddle. Sometimes it starts to hurt and then I push myself up for a second to reposition myself.

I catch Brittany dreamingly checking out the view and kiss her softly on the nose.

"You're all quiet and cute."

She snaps out of her own reality and softly smiles: "I've been here many times before. It's my favorite place on earth."

It sounds way to emotional to be just a random comment and I wonder why. But her eyes wander off to my body and all of a sudden, her attitude changes.

"You know, you look really sexy on a horse. Look at you, with those high riding boots and that equestrian helmet on your head." she compliments me.

But I'm not understanding what she's saying.

"_Eque_- what?"

"Your riding helmet." she clarifies.

"Is that how the rich people call it?"

She's offended: "That's how everyone calls it."

Back to business: "Well, lucky for me, I look hot in everything. But I'm still not a fan of riding this thing."

Our friends are way ahead of us. They're only small little, moving dots from where I'm at, just the way I like them. She puts her mouth next to my ear and our helmets knock against each other. I feel her warm breath on my skin and slightly turn my head.

"I bet you're a fan of riding me."

I chuckle amused, because she's so unbelievably naughty.

"Brittany S. Pierce, _you_ are a fan of me riding you."

"I am. How about we keep these outfits on when we get back and sneak away for an hour?"

That sounds thrilling. I could be in for some roleplaying. And for some riding, frankly.

"I like your plan. But if you must know, I'd love to put my hand down your pants _right here, right now, _actually."

I love to tease her every now and then. It doesn't always have to be her. But unlike any other person, Brittany's not the one to blush over my comment.

"I understand: hotness runs in the family." she says, genuinely serious.

She makes me smile, but before I get the chance to come up with a snarky comment, one of her hands that's holding on to the reins slips back and makes its way to the place between my private parts and the leather. I'm no longer sitting on the saddle, but on her fingers.

"Brittany! That sort of hurts!"

She shushes me and softly bites my left earlobe. An unexpected enjoying smile takes over my entire face.

"I am going to do things to you that you never experienced before."

I reposition myself again, but it wasn't the best idea, since I'm now fully approachable for her hand and it pleases me instantly. A little shiver runs through my pelvis and I laugh while sighing aroused.

"When we get home?"

"No, right here, right now, like you suggested."

I'm shocked: "Brittany, we can't do that. There are dozens of people here. And - oh yeah: _we're on a horse_."

The first one was a lie. The second one was an exaggeration. The last one was kind of obvious.

"That's the whole point. Wait."

She gently pulls back the reins and the horse slows down a little bit. That forces the animal to reduce the speed of his legs, and _that_ results in teasing, thorough movements of her fingers against my lady parts. She's not even doing anything, the horse does it for her.

"Our friends are very, _very_ far ahead." she tells me.

I close my eyes with enjoyment and softly moan as the strange experience turns me on completely.

"You could hear a mouse running across this field. They could hear me." is my last argument to stop whatever we're doing.

But I don't really want her to stop.

"Then I advise you to be very, very quiet, young lady."

Her fingers are pushing my core extremely hard, but it's okay, because that will only lead to a faster climax. Sexual pain is a funny thing: it's masochism at its best.

"Isn't it weird that I'm going to orgasm on top of a horse?" I ask, completely confused about certain laws that involve sex and animals.

She chuckles and kisses me below my left ear. The white horse snorts again, but I don't pay attention to it, nor does it scare me like before. I'm just leaning back against her and enjoy the ride. Literally.

"Brittany?" I pant.

"Yeah."

"How many times have you done this before?"

It's too fucking amazing to be accidentally discovered today. She surprises me with her answer: "I had my first ever orgasm while riding a horse when I was thirteen."

Funny, I always imagined her to experience the first one in a bed, with a girl. Like, normal people. Normal _gay_ people.

"So your first orgasm wasn't with a lesbian fling of yours?"

She shakes her head in my neck and laughs: "Well, at least the horse was a girl."

It's such a disturbing answer, but I can't help but laugh. After a second, my soaking wet core pulls me back to the sex that's going on, though. I bite my lower lip and turn my face towards the sky, so I can breathe in some fresh air. The horse's slow pace and the thereby wiggling of its back is _ecstatic_. There's no other word. My shirt's too tight to slide underneath it carefully, so she just enters the piece of clothing through my neckline in order to massage my breasts. Our helmets are an annoying part in all of it, but I manage to get over it quite rapidly.

"We can never tell anyone about this." I tell her.

_Imagine. "Truth or dare?" "Truth: I once had sex on top of a horse". _She doesn't respond. Instead, her lips keep kissing the bare skin of my neck and while her one hand gently squeezes my hard nipples, the other one is still motionlessly pressing her index finger against my clitoris. When I open my eyes for a second, I realize that I'm suddenly holding on to the reins. Normally, my body would jump up about three inches out of fear, but I'm so over that at the moment. I just hold on to it and instinctively instruct the horse to slow down its way of walking whenever I feel like it'd be much more fun to experience.

"You're riding a horse." Brittany whispers in my ear.

I smile, while my legs are starting to go numb.

"No, I'm riding your index finger."

She's pleased to hear me say that and it makes her think.

"They should make sex toys like this. _Our family_ should be making sex toys like this instead of boring electronic devices that every other company in the world can easily copy."

It's actually an awesome idea, but I'm in no position to clearly think that through. Sweat's dripping down my cheeks and when the white animal between my leg unexpectedly trips over a lose stone on the ground, it sends a thrust through Brittany's finger against my most sensitive part that does the trick. I moan loudly and gasp for air while I fall back behind and depend on her to support my paralyzed body. The horse is a little shaken up by my sudden noise and speeds up tensed and confused. Brittany takes over the reins and eases off its pace again.

Oh, God. This is even better than that one time when she went down on me on the kitchen floor. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait until every little shock has flashed from head to toe. She's holding on to me tightly, because I might fall of the horse. That's how weak I'm feeling - how numb and taken over by my nerves I am.

"Fuck." I sigh, completely satisfied.

Brittany smiles and playfully bites the side of my neck. I shrug to make her stop and finally open my eyes again. Directly in front of us, there's Rachel and Quinn, waiting for us, nearly out of sight. I'm so thankful they didn't decide to come back for us. Although it _is_ possible that they heard my unconventional horseback riding noises.

* * *

We're back at the stables and I'm still recovering from what just happened. My walking's kind of awkward and Quinn notices.

"What's going on? We haven't been gone that long for you to have blisters on your thighs."

"Seriously, Quinn: that's disgusting." I reply. "Oh, wait, is that actually possible?"

She thinks she's so funny. But her mind's putting one and one together, so a disapproving expression quickly takes over her disgusted face.

"Oh, my God. You just had sex with Brittany, didn't you? You guys are _unbelievable_."

I'm offended - not really, though - and my jaw drops: "No, we didn't."

But she's not buying any of it. She can tell when I'm lying.

"Yes, you did. You still have that sex glow on your face."

I put my hands on my face and, actually, they do feel kind of warm. Fuck.

"We were only gone for like ten minutes without the two of you! Did you just hop off and do it in the middle of a field or something?"

I swallow deeply and decide that her imaginative conclusion will always sound less disturbing than the actual truth, so I just nod and flush.

"You guys are screwing all the time. You need a secretary to manage your sex schedule."

I laugh, because it's such a typical Fabray thing to say, and poke her shoulder.

"Shut up."

Her stare freezes when she randomly looks over my shoulder and recognizes someone.

"No, I think _you_ better shut up now." she hints.

I look behind me and notice how Jacob's approaching. He fakes a charming smile and after a couple of doubtful seconds, decides to come over and greet us both.

"Hi." I nervously say.

He kisses Quinn on the cheek and doesn't repeat that action with me. His gorgeous face just softens up instantly as soon as he's remembered of my best intentions.

"Hello. How are you?"

I nod and shrug: "I'm fine. You?"

Quinn puts her hands up in the air to make some meaningless gestures and finally finds Rachel standing nearby, as always.

"I think Rachel just called me."

I'm not in the mood to be alone with Jacob, so I correct her immediately: "I don't think she did."

But Quinn's persistence tops my piercing eyes and she flashes her most evil smile: "Oh, she did. Bye!"

She runs off. _Great friend! _Jacob and I don't have anything interesting to say, except some chitchat about the weather and the fact that I finally dared to ride a horse, so I sigh deeply and secretly think back of the days where he was my best friend. I miss it. I miss _him_.

"I need to go."

It's almost a whisper. His eyes, they're so painful to look at. I'm such a bad person for making him feel this way.

"To Brittany?" he asks me.

But there's a little twitch in his tone that I don't appreciate. I get that he's not fully recovered from the shock yet, even now, but there's no reason to be so disrespectful of my relationship with his cousin.

"Yeah. Is that a problem?" is my snarky response.

He shakes his head and forces a smile: "No, it's just ... I thought we could ..."

His strong body approaches mine and I'm not sure what's happening. Before I give him the opportunity to go along with whatever he's planning, I take a step back and put my flat hand against his chest.

"Jacob, Britt and I are ..."

"Together. Yeah, I gathered."

He calms down and so do I.

"I'm sorry if this hurts you. Look, I'm doing my best to avoid these confrontations with you."

My voice cracks: "But I can't change _this_, not even if I try. You need to believe me: I never wanted to hurt you."

For a second I see a sneaky tear filling up his eye.

"I know. It's just ... hard for me. I thought that you and I ... that we were perfect."

"There's no such thing as perfection, Jacob. That's just an illusion."

I've always been good at rationalizing things, even if it means destroying someone's expectations. Ask Berry. I told her she sings like a crow.

"I'm sorry, but I really need to go now."

As I'm walking away from him, he turns around to watch me leave.

"You know she's going to dump you, too, right? Like all the other girls?"

I freeze up and face him again to frown resentfully.

"No, she's not."

A raging fire rises deep inside of me. He's standing with his hands deep inside his pockets and disagrees.

"It's just who Brittany is. She can't help it. One day, there'll be this other girl and she'll get tired of you."

"Shut it!" I warn him, but he doesn't listen.

"She has always been like that, Santana.

"It's different with me. She loves me." I say.

"Brittany loves everyone. That's the problem."

I shake my head and turn away from him.

"You're such an ass, Jacob."

He's being arrogant and I would really love to smack him over the head with my _equestrian helmet_, but it's smarter to just walk away from him.

"I need to go." I tell him again, without looking back.

He apologizes after he realizes what an impact it has on me, but I'm long gone before his first couple of words are spoken. I need to find her.

* * *

She's in the garden, drinking a glass of gin tonic, when I find her after changing my outfit. Her hair is wet from the fresh dive in the swimming pool she just had and it needs to be said: she looks fabulous in that yellow bikini. All around her, there are people I've never seen. I guess the other guests arrived as well. Her endless look is focussed on one of her lesbian friends that's making her way across the festive area, checking out girls and chitchatting with the most beautiful ladies that are dancing. Brittany's not amused, she carries a strict expression and instead of telling her about the Jacob thing, I decide to ask what's going on. She's startled by my sudden presence and fakes a faint smile.

"You scared me." she tells me.

I decide not to care.

"You look sad."

She shakes her head and barely convinces me.

"I'm just exhausted after the horseback riding, that's all."

Her eyes wander off to the brunette again, still flirting with all the girls. I want to give it a rest, but there's a side of my personality that always encourages my inner bitch to ignore all reasonable warning signs and dive right in, so I swallow nervously and draw her attention by putting my hand on her face.

"Is there's something you're not telling me, Brittany?"

I guess Jacob's words do haunt my mind. There's a sparkle in her eyes that doesn't appear very much. For a second, she freezes and I'm convinced there's something wrong.

"I love you _so_ much, Santana." she tells me.

It's sounds like a desperate pleading. Too emphasized and completely soaked with fear. I've only seen her like this when she accepted that she was in love with me. I nod, because of course I know that she loves me. Every little part of me knows that. After that, she hides in my embrace and my fingers run through her wet, blond hairs. My mind's mixed up and I frown. The way she's holding on to me makes me concerned.

"Me, too, Britt." I say in a low voice, while nodding on her shoulder.

* * *

_**Thanks for the support ! Let me know what you guys think ;)**_


	14. DAY 208 - Office call

**Short one. Relevant for the next chapter.**

**Hope you'll enjoy ;) will update soon and I love you guys for your support!**

* * *

**Day Two Hundred and Eight**

As soon as I got to work today, I started thinking about what Brittany told me yesterday. The sex toy thing, when she literally fucked me on top of a horse. Yeah, it still sounds weird, right? Anyway, she said that her family's company should manufacture sex toys instead of stupid, copyable electronics that seemed to have gone outdated. The profits are going downhill, I spend enough time at the mansion to pick up on it. I've heard Gramps' conversations with Jacob and his father when I pretend to talk along with the women. Even Susan, who prefers to stay on the outside of the financial department, worries. So I decided, the second I woke up and laid eyes on that perfect, adorable person sleeping besides me, that this would be it: this would be the idea that we need to survive. Instead of doing the regular work that's piling up on the side of my massive desk, I just ignore it, like I ignore Berry most of the time she's around, and my time and concentration are put into a thorough and detailed dossier about how that plan would work in reality. All morning, I went through documentation and informational studies that can be found on the internet. Some calls were made to very dodgy and shady companies to figure out exactly how they started their businesses. Most of them work online, so it's hard to get a hold on a manager or an owner, but my Lopez skills managed to get me in touch with three of them. One of them actually offered me a job at one of his sex lines, since 'my voice has a pornographic twist'. It was strangely flattering, but I declined, anyway. So, producing sex toys ...

It's a risky move, sure, since we've always had a very strict reputation - some might call it respectable and decent, _I_ call it boring - but unless we take matters into our own hands, this business will go down and all the hard work that every single member of the family has put into it, will have been for nothing. Plus, I'd be out of a job. I can't just do nothing. I need to focus and step up. Obviously, talking about the suggestion won't just do it. They expect a fully written out strategy. Those lazy bastards always do. There's supposed to be a business plan, a marketing plan, targets, designs, ... Name it - I'm prepared. The whole concept has intrigued me so much that I'm on a high: I'm typing at the speed of light and words just keep flowing out of my mind - they travel through my fingers and translate on the screen.

A self-conscious and presumptuous smile lights up my face when my index fingers presses the last dot of the document on the keyboard. I move my mouse to the corner of the screen. Print. Check. The palms of my hand push my body off of the leather desk chair, while I flip my loose hair back over my shoulder. I should've pulled them in a tight ponytail this morning when I got up, but I was in a hurry. Staring at a sleeping Brittany absorbs a lot of my getting ready time, clearly. So much that I have make tough decisions: comb my hair in a decent way or put on make-up. This morning, I favored the make-up ritual. The printer's almost done, I can tell, so I walk over to one of the filing cabinets to pick out a pretty, outfit matching folder to put the pile of papers in. I'm alone in this office - as usual. Many of my previous colleagues volunteered to move to another one after a couple of weeks when they finally got tired of my constant slams and insulting jokes. I don't get it: I'm just trying to keep this place entertaining enough for myself. I mean, when someone has an awful haircut or smells really bad, I'm actually doing them a favor by telling them honestly, right? It's not, like, bullying or something. Whatever, they all left me here alone and I'm not even sorry about it. A miracle happened when they didn't put the Hobbit in the same room as me. Did I forget to mention? Alex hired her last week. Awful, right? She's so annoyingly ambitious it's actually disgusting to watch. She stalks Alex like a slave, begging for more work to get done. He happily offers all the lame jobs to her - she happily accepts. Quinn's so proud that she managed to get a job so quickly after she graduated, and luckily, nobody bothers to ask me how _I _feel about that. Because, let me tell you, they wouldn't be pleased about the answer. I'd rather if she had kept out of my career and the company I work for. The fact that my ex-boyfriend, his father, my current girlfriend's mother and ... uhm - oh yeah - the grandparents work with me is bad enough already. Now I need to put up with an overly loud and exceptionally hyperactive troll as well. And if she keeps acting like this, Alex will soon expect me to work even harder than I already am right now. This situation has zero benefits for me. Zero!

My right hand straightens out the wrinkles of my striped, tight dress with a firm rub. After that, I leave the office, extremely content about the work I've put into Brittany's idea, to head to Alex' floor.

_Go ahead, Santana Lopez. Kick Alex' ass. Show him how a Lopez does it. Convince him of Britt's capacities and wipe that smirk off his face! _

* * *

I'm texting Brittany as three uninteresting colleagues of mine don't even bother to start a conversation in the elevator. They just stare at my breasts, like they always do. Pigs. Just wait until I see their wives at the next reception.

**To: 3 Britt-Britt 3**

'_I miss you, cutie pie.' _

Such obnoxious words flowing from my heart. She has turned me into such a big, whipped wuss. As I silently insult myself, my fingers press the send button.

The short and shrill elevator bell welcomes me to the third floor. My high, purple heels bring me all the way through the messy and productive desks, until I reach a giant, glass door. I spy a worried Alex sitting behind his desk. My head turns back to the people who just stare at me, that bitch from the lonely office downstairs, and as soon as they notice that I'm aware of their lingering looks, they go back to work. No Berry. Weird.

A steady nock, that's all it takes to draw Alex' attention and he immediately invites me in. It's rare that I come to his office. He assigns most of the responsibilities via email and telephone calls. Or across the dinner table when we're having a family dinner. He trusts me enough to offer me plenty more opportunities than copywriting related things alone. To be honest, I hardly ever get those tasks that have something to do with my diploma anymore. I like it, even though it's quite a burden to get everything finished on time, lately.

The unpleasant man leans back in his squeaking chair and waits for me to tell him what's going - what my reasons are to disturb him. But I surprise him by keeping my snarky mouth shut for once as my hands hovers above his desk, the file in my hand. His brown eyes confusingly stare at the bundle of papers and his head rotates a bit to the right. I smirk completely complacent and overly confident and drop the document on the dark, flat, top surface from about ten inches high. Alex' body is startled by the sudden smack and I notice that he accidentally drops a very expensive pen on the ground. My skinny body makes a one hundred and eighty twirl and I march straight out of the outdated and sickening masculine room again. Someday Jacob will sit at his place ... And I'll force him to redecorate.

I'm pretty sure Alex' checking out my ass, as usual, but I don't mind. I know it looks fabulous in this dress, that's why I'm wearing it. The only thing I'm sorry about, is that I won't see the look on his face when he'll read the final words at the end of that long collection of paragraphs and statistics: 'Brittany S. Pierce'.

* * *

Halfway to my office, my phone starts buzzing against the palm of my hand. I look up and smile immediately: it's Brittany's goofy face that's displayed on the screen. She changed her picture in my contact list _yet again_. This time, she's throwing an overly enthusiastic kiss at my camera. One day, she'll surprise me by replacing it with a naked one, I'm one hundred percent sure.

"This is Miss Lopez speaking, how can I help you?" I answer convincingly professional as if I'm unaware who I'm talking to.

A second passes and there's nothing to be heard.

"Santana?"

Oh, the scared confusion in her voice. So cute!

"Yeah, sweetie?"

I make my way through the long hallway that's bringing me to my office and smile softly.

"Oh!" she reacts surprised.

Poor little Brittany, so easily tricked. I chuckle silently, because the memory of her wrinkled nose that appears every time she's not sure what to make out of a situation pops up in my head.

"What are you doing?" she asks completely clueless.

I frown and push the door shut behind me as I enter my office. That big pile of papers on top of my desk still hasn't vaporized into dust. _Crap_.

"Working, duh! What else would I be doing?"

"Can't you take half the day off?"

Her voice is softly begging. I sigh and lean against the big file cabinet that's right next to me. The phone gets squeezed between my jaw and my shoulder, so I can easily access the nearby binders that will be necessary to get me through the next tasks.

"I wish I could, Britt, but there's so much left to do."

For a second, I think about letting Rachel do all of my work, so I could go home and have sex with my totally hot girlfriend. But that would be really mean, right? And ethically wrong, probably? I walk over to my desk, the binders pilled up in my fragile hands, and put them on top of my keyboard. They accidentally press down a button, so now my entire screen is filling up with the letter B. My eyes roll inside of my head, but weirdly, I take no action to make it stop. B reminds me of Brittany, so I'm okay with that. My fingers hold on to the phone again.

"Can we have, like, a nice dinner or something this evening?" I propose.

I hear her mumble something I can't understand.

"Brittany!?"

"I'm sorry, I was just talking to Lord Tubbington. He's being rude today."

I roll my eyes again and sigh: "Well, can you two make it quick, I'm trying to have a conversation with you."

She giggles and apologizes.

"You were talking about food, right? Because you always talk about food. Okay, we can do that."

She knows exactly what I'm like.

"I don't _always_ talk about food. When you're not around, I always talk about _you_, you know?"

"You do?"

She's totally enchanted by my little confession.

"I swear. People can't stand me anymore, they are completely annoyed by how many times a day I say your name out loud."

I'm slightly overreacting, be she doesn't mind. I know she's smiling to her phone right now, with that childish joy spread over her entire face.

"What are you up to today? Going to class, by any chance?"

Something tells me that's very unlikely, but, hey, I wouldn't want to be unsupportive about my girlfriend's educational realizations.

"Maybe. I thought about checking out the photography department today. I want to learn more about that."

She does like taking pictures. Not just people, but animals, landscapes, nature - you name it. But sadly, that means another twist in her school career. Another couple of months that have been waisted. I hope the report I just handed over to Alex will mean something. I hope it'll encourage her to do something with her life now. My heart and my mind are so convinced she's got whatever it takes. I mean: the girl's inventive, a true genius - plus, she has the hottest ass ever. Those three qualities? Enough to make it in the business world!

"But I'm not sure yet. Gramps seems to be having a nasty flu, I'm going to check on him first. Maybe I can get him something to make him feel better. Or we can play Uno cards. He loves that."

A soft smile appears as I sigh into the cellphone. Susan, her mom, and Gramps are about the only normal people in that twisted family. Even Grams has a dark personality hidden underneath the softer exterior. Alex got it from her. Even though Britt never tells me a lot about her past or the things that are close to her heart, I know how important her grandfather is to her. He's the one who always has her back. He's also the one paying for all her activities, school _and_ party related. Alex, his wife and Grams are always talking about Jacob, the one true future of the company, the only grandson, the heir of the family responsibility, ... A big bunch of bullshit, really.

But then there's Gramps - and he's _so_ in love with his only granddaughter. If there'd be anyone in this world capable of loving her even more than I do, it would be him. She's his little princess, even though she already grew up a long time ago. Her goofy and slack interpretation of life intrigues and amuses him. Susan was exactly the same, he told me at a dinner party a couple of months ago. But Brittany's slightly worse. And less caught up with life. A true free spirit.

"It's rare that anyone in this family dares to dream and act out like she does. I support that: life shouldn't all be drama and business." he said.

My snarky response was a little heavier than I imagined, though, as I assured him that "Life wasn't all drunk tequila parties and lesbian sex, either."

The old guy smirked at me mysteriously and closed his eyes for an enjoying moment. He's fond of me. And he got over the fact that I'll never marry his grandson. Somehow, I think he roots for a lesbian wedding in the near future, now. He and me both.

"I'll let her have it for a couple more years. She's had it hard growing up in this place. Like she never really fitted at the dinner table, next to her stuck up uncle and the career driven cousin. It'll come to her when she's ready. One day, she'll surprise us all."

Those sweet words warmed my heart, because finally, Susan and I weren't the only ones putting faith in her anymore. We had an ally now.

"Your granddaughter surprises me every day, Sir." I whispered.

His gentle, soft eyes blinked a few times before he nodded and walked away.

I sigh deeply.

"Santana? Are you still there?"

Brittany takes me back to the present time. I grin and confess that I was just thinking about her.

"I miss you." I tell her.

Her happy voice makes a promise: "Don't worry, I'll spoil you with sweet lady kisses tonight, to make it better."

Now that's something exhilarating to rush home to. I tell how much I love her, but that I have to go now. She softly utters a childish goodbye and it's adorable.

"I love you too, babe. Even more than I love Lord Tubbington."

That shrill, troubled noise my phone makes whenever a line goes dead is the most horrible thing ever. It cuts me off from talking to her and drags me back to the awful reality I'm in. But hey, I really have to get on with work now if I want to make it home on time. I'm expecting some sweet lady kisses - and let me tell you: that's totally worth the wait.

* * *

**let me know what you guys think ;)**


	15. DAY 209 - Office visit

**Back at the office, one day later ;)**

* * *

**Day Two Hundred and Nine**

The next day, someone does me the honor of surprising me at my office. First, I'm scared that the knock on the door might lead to Rachel, because _every freaking day_, she thinks it's a gift of life itself when she hops by at my door. Except it's not, it's a punishment. Because when she does, she starts blabbing about Quinn or work and my tasks just pile up like an enormous, unstoppable monster who's having monster babies on top of my desk. And I couldn't care less that she has an undiscovered crush on my _bestie_ from when I was eight years old. I mean, do I _look_ like I care about her sudden bisexual confusion or something? I always joke about it, though, and it pissed her off terribly. She'll be all "Santana Lopez, how dare you! Quinn's _just_ my best friend. I'm totally straight! I was in love with Finn once, remember!"

And then I'll be "Yeah, well, I used to be straight, too. And now I'm a razing lesbian with an unsatisfying hunger for mind-blowingly good girl on girl sex. And the fact that you dated Finn Hudson is just unforgivingly wrong and disgusting - so that's not even a valid argument or anything."

And _then_, she'll leave. Seriously, the fact that she even bothers to stop by anymore ...

But surprisingly, the girl walking into the office is Brittany, on one of her rare visits to the company. As soon as she enters through the white door, firmly holding a paper bag, my face lights up with joy and I drop everything what I was doing.

"Babe, why are you here? Did you get lost?" I tease her softly all the way from my chair.

She frowns and shakes her head: "You know I only get lost at the mall. I mean, even after all those times, I still can't seem to find the exit without asking anyone for help. Last time, I followed the direction that one of the mannequins in a lingerie store was pointing at, but it didn't help: I accidentally ended up in the middle of the cafeteria kitchen."

I grin the dorkiest smile.

"I did score some cookies from that nice waitress!"

She's dead serious about it. About all of it. She gets lost every single time she's searching for her car. It happened six time last year alone, and each and every time, I went down to the mall to go and find her. She usually waits for me at a nearby ice cream stand. And by the time that I get to her, she's handing out free ice cream cones to all the children that are around.

She walks over to me and pecks me on the cheek. I pout, because I prefer the taste of her lips on mine. Brittany notices the disappointment taking over my face and corrects the way she just greeted me. An apologetic and long kiss warms my mouth and this day instantly got three times better. Her ass sits down at the top of my desk, mixing up some papers I've worked hard on the last hour. Of course she doesn't care. Something tells her to stay away from all the trouble that immediately takes over your life when you start to care about the work invested into this company. Like she's offering herself a few more carefree moments before she'll eventually take over her mother's position. She throws a look across the office and frowns a little bit. This is not her favorite place to be. I recognize the expression from the other day at the pool, when she got lost and, for a second, I couldn't reach her.

"How's your grandfather?"

Her attention resurfaces and she shrugs: "Still a bit sick. If it doesn't get any better, I'm going to take him to a doctor. I might have to fool him, because you know how he is about doctors."

I nod and think about it for a while.

"I could ask my dad to visit him. You know he won't mind."

That thought excites her. My dad seems to like Gramps. Maybe because he sees the nice parts of him, like me.

"I'll give it a few more days. If he doesn't get better -"

"I'll call him". I promise.

I kiss the tips of her fragile fingers and she giggles.

"Now tell me, why are you here?" I ask while putting my hands on top of her lap.

She teasingly presses her lips together, stares at the ceiling and lifts her left arm to show the paper bag. I get curious instantly.

"BreadstiX take-out?" I gasp as soon as I recognize the logo and I enthusiastically throw my hands in front of my face.

I'm the exact replica of a child that just got a pony. She's pleased, because this is a perfect way to keep me whipped: bring me the deliciousness from the place that's too far away from me to go for lunch and I'll remain forever thankful. My fingers snatch the paper out of her grip and the warmth of the food soaking through it immediately takes over every sensitive nerve of my skin. I gasp. This is ... This ... This is better than sex. _BreadstiX_ is better than sex.

I tend to get too greedy and put the ripped open bag next to her on the desk. Brittany taps me on the fingers, which makes me look up to her.

"Sharing, please! I paid _and_ sexy-delivered."

I apologize and offer her a piece of garlic bread. She bends over and nearly bites the tips off my fingers. This girl's so dead cute.

* * *

After we finish the delicious meal, I get up to toss the leftovers in the garbage can. She hasn't asked me one work-related thing since she got here. She never does. I don't really mind, because all everyone ever talks about over here - if they even dare to speak to me - is work-related.

"So, have you seen Rachel today?"

"Thank God, I haven't." I answer, honestly relieved. "I don't have enough energy to insult her."

"Don't do that." she pleads gently.

She hates it when I treat my friends bad. It's just my special way of caring. I ignore her sweet request and drop the paper package on the bottom of the grey can. Surprisingly, she followed me across the room, and her body presses up against my back in a tempting way. The radio's on and it's playing one of her favorite songs,_ I'm A_ _Slave 4 U_. Her hips start to wiggle - following the crazy beat. There's an immediate tingle growing inside of me. This is _exactly_ why she can't come over to the office too often.

"Birttany." I whine, while pushing her back with my shoulder.

Of course: never the one to listen to anything I have to say. She kisses the bare skin of my neck and I like it a little bit too much. Another undeniable shudder. And another wiggle of her hips.

_I'm so screwed._

"Brittany, seriously! Don't. I've been feeling horny every since I woke up this morning. This _won't_ help."

She smirks, because of course she takes that as a challenge. I shouldn't have said it, I quickly realize.

"So, these windows ..." she whispers, while we're both suddenly facing them. We're on the second floor, high above the pedestrians and moving cars. Across the street, there are more buildings, where thousands of people are working and participating in conferences. Brittany puts one hand on each side of my hips and presses me closer to her. I hold my breath, because I'm not sure if she really captures the magnitude of my growing sexual desire. Soft pushing forces me to get closer to the edge of the room. We're inches away from the window now. It reaches all the way to the floor.

"... do they function as a mirror from the outside?" she wants to know.

Not sure if I understand what she's trying to say.

"You mean, like: can't see through them, reflecting kind of windows like in an interrogation room?"

She nods, her head buried deeply in my neck. I feel warm air passing my skin and it makes me shiver. I know what she's up to, but we absolutely can't do this. Someone might walk in. That would be terrible. Completely embarrassing and terrible and ... also slightly smoking hot.

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not." I answer, hoping it might discourage her a little bit.

My attempt fails, because it seems to arouse her even more. Her arms wrap around my waist and quickly find their way to my cleavage.

"You shouldn't be wearing such short dresses to work, Santana."

One of her fingers is teasing my right breast. A smiling moan leaves my mouth and both of my hands get put against the cold glass of the window. What am I doing?

_Force her to stop, Santana. Please, show at least some resistance. _

"Why is that?" I hum.

"Because one of your colleagues might make a move on you."

I smirk, because, sure, she's the expert when it comes to that.

"Would that bother you, Miss Pierce?"

She nods against my skin and plants a soft, tender, wet kiss on my shoulder. Goosebumps are now taking over that entire area. The touch of her fingers have turned my nipples hard and I hate it, because this is the kind of dress that doesn't cover up anything.

"And what would you do about that?" I need to know. "I mean, if someone would be hitting on me?"

She hums for a second and moves her hand teasingly towards the edge of my short piece of clothing. Her crotch is thrusting my ass rhythmically, still following the beat of the music that's playing in the background.

Forget about the 'Rhythm is a dancer' song. It was supposed to be 'Brittany is a dancer'. My panties are turning into a pool of sticky fluids and it's all her fault. Jesus Christ, I'm supposed to work five more hours. How am I going to that with wet panties? I lean my head back until it finds a soft support against her left shoulder. Her lips are now leveling my ear.

"I would track down every guy that might even dare to look at you and kick his sorry ass." she assures me.

"Funny. What if I tell you that the last person who hit on me was a woman? She works on the sixth floor and brings me coffee every now and then."

A loud growl reaches my ear and I can tell she doesn't like to hear that. Somehow, I still think she has no clue how to interpret my sexual orientation.

My flat hands are now firmly pressed against the see-through glass and I'm wondering if it is what we believe: a reflecting window. What if one of the worn-out, depressed and married to an asexual spouse kind of guys from across the street is looking directly at us from his office? This is free porn, happening in front of his eyes. Free, lesbian porn, actually. And it's _super_ _hot_ - I mean: I've watched us doing the nasty in front of a window three times already. We'd be sex idols on the internet.

Her teasing hand disappears underneath my dress and all my doubts go blurry. I forget every reason why this should not be happening and impatiently await the moment where her index finger will tickle my clitoris for the first time today. She slowly works her way up along my thigh and my toes curl inside of my ballerinas in anticipation. After a couple of seconds, my lace panties get pushed aside.

"Brittany, I swear to God, if someone walks in and this is getting me fired, I'm going all Lima Heights on y-"

But I get unmercifully shut up by the touch of her fingertip against my most sensitive part. I shriek, even though I'm really trying to stay quiet, and fold my fingers until they form a steady fist against the blue sky in front of us.

"Holy Mother of fuck." I whisper, while biting my bottom lip so much it might start to bleed in an instant. I take it back: _BreadstiX_ is _not_ better than sex!

Brittany's enjoying this way too much.

"Relax, Santana. If anyone catches us and threatens to snitch, I'll fire him immediately. I'm the future CEO of this company, you know?"

It's the first time I've ever heard her say anything like that. It's kind of impressive and arousing.

"You are? So you're going to be my boss one day?"

Her finger softly circles around the entrance of my vagina a couple of times and I catch myself suggestively moving my pelvis down, towards her hand.

"Yes, exactly. That'll make you my employee. The employee _I sleep with_."

I hum and softly smile, because that makes me think: "People will start gossiping when that happens, though. They'll think I'm fucking myself to the top."

Then again: like they weren't doing that when I was still dating Jacob ... But I never fantasized about having sex with Brittany on top of Alex' desk or hidden in one of the many copying rooms. Or ... in front of an office window.

"Now, now." she softly whispers in my ear. "We both know who'll forever be on top in our relationship."

Chills, rushing along my spine. _Oh, my freaking God of sex_. She licks my earlobe and I'm starting to lose myself even more. I fucking hate it when she does that - except I kind of love it and it makes my knees go weak.

Thoughts about people across the street, leveling our floor and watching us, flash through my mind every second she continues to caress my clit. It's turning me on so badly that I might consider holding back from yelling 'pervs' to ugly people who are making out in public in the future. I pant harder than I thought I would. Fog appears on the glass in front of me. Seriously, I've been incredibly horny all morning. She was passed out and so damn tired when my alarm went off, so I couldn't bring myself to wake her up for some early morning sex. During my morning shower, I thought about getting off on the memory of her sexy dance moves, but sadly, there wasn't enough time, or I'd be late for work. And masturbation is so overrated ... Why do it myself when Brittany could be doing it?

Looks like she can now read my mind, too, because she came by to fix things. My kind of girl.

Just as I'm fully sinking into her touch and her free hand is doing its job to keep me up on my feet instead of collapsing, a loud and steady knock on the door both causes us to scare indescribably. She lets go of my soaking wet core and walks three whole steps away from me, while I try to get a grip on my muscles again. The door opens and I can't see who it is, I'm still facing the window, desperately begging myself to pull it together. Luckily, my dress fell back down as soon as she let go. My panties stick to the side of my right vagina lip, though - incredibly uncomfortable actually - but as long as my _sex face_ remains relatively unnoticeable, everything will be okay.

_Please, be Rachel Berry. Please, be Rachel freaking Berry._

"Hi, uncle!" I hear Brittany say.

And there goes the ground from under my feet._You have got to be fucking kidding me_!

Out of all people to walk in on us while having sex, it had to be my freaking boss. I frown slightly, because, come to think of it, Jacob would've been worse. I huff and puff and inhale and exhale carefully. _Get it together, Lopez._

"Hi, Brittany. What are _you_ doing here?" he curiously asks.

Just as surprised as I was. Steady breaths force me to relax again. I'm still facing the window, one of my hands still holding on to the glass. I need to, as support. But Brittany doesn't answer, I assume she just shrugs and smiles sillily, like she often does.

"Santana?"

His confused tone makes it clear that he has no idea what's going on. Why do I keep staring across that goddamn street, right? Why am I panting when the air conditioning is on?

_Come on, Santana, turn around and face him._

I do, and luckily, he doesn't pick up on anything.

"Hi, Alex!" I sound overly excited. "What brings you here?"

He walks over to me and smiles as if he's not too pleased to confess what's on his mind.

"I've read the document."

A short sentence, but enough for my heart to skip a beat. What a wonderful timing, Brittany's right here! She has no idea what's going on, of course, so I walk over to appear on her right side. Damage control coming up! My body is pressed against her tightly. Her hand softly makes its way around my waist - almost lovingly, but a couple of seconds later, it slips to my ass. I look at her from the corner of my eye and slightly frown, while keeping hold on that smile for Alex.

"I must say ... It's the _weirdest_ thing I've ever read. And it's just as disturbing how you came up with all the material and documentation ..." he continues.

Right now, he's staring at Brittany, but she has no clue. Her fingers are playing around with the fabric around my toned butt. Smacking it away would be too obvious. Wiggling my ass just as well. Alex would notice.

"But I appreciate the effort and I let my financial advisor have a look at it. And then Susan. And I must say -"

He stops talking completely. Brittany's fingers are now hooked under the edge of my panties, not bothered by the upper layer of my dress at all. I finally realize what she's up to: she's pulling the lace material back to its original place. My vagina lips are saved! A relieved sigh crosses my lips, but I quickly refocus and immediately throw a look at Alex to make sure I'm expecting him to finish the sentence.

"We think it might work. We thought it was an excellent idea, actually, and - if we remember to separate the products completely by using a different logo and another house style - it might be the best thing that ever happened to the company."

I'm so happy that I might burst into tears. My heart pounds like crazy and there's absolutely nothing that could disturb my day right now, not even Hobbit walking into this room.

"So thank you, Brittany. I was wrong about you and I'm not ashamed to say that out loud."

He's lying, because he is. My head turns to the beautiful woman on my side and I catch the sudden surprise on her face. I know exactly what she's thinking. Did he just say her name? Why? Just another second and she'll ask what the hell is going on. So I interfere her usual, thoughtless behavior and kick her against the heel, maybe a little bit too hard, because her body straightens in pain. She faces me a moment later, displaying a painful smile. There's so much doubt filling her expression, that I can almost taste it. My head tilts very suggestively, while I urge her to accept the felicitations without saying a word. I can be very convincing, even silently. Hardcore Lopez style.

"Uhm - thank you, Uncle Alex." she finally stutters when she turns her head back again.

He approaches us and puts a hand on top of her shoulder. I'm so enjoying this. To a level that hasn't been reached before. Oh, I wish Rachel was here to witness this.

"We'll go over it soon, when R&D has done its work. Okay?"

She still has no clue, poor thing. So instead of saying anything, she just nods and fakes a faint smile. His hand's stretched out and she shakes it, still covered in numbness. But as soon as he walks out of the room and closes the door behind him, she pats me against the shoulder and points to her legs.

"First of all: _auw_!" she growls. "And second of all, what the hell was that about? Did I do something when I was drunk again?"

Last time, she accidentally organized a staff meeting. I smirk and kiss her on the cheek to calm her down a little bit.

"Yes, you did - but you were sober. You gave me an incredible idea that only you could've come up with."

"What was that?"

Her instant curiousness takes over the distant anger.

"Well, the short version is: this company will probably start producing sex toys from now on."

I say it hasty and make it seem like it's just another insignificant thing like all the other stuff I talk about normally. Her jaw drops the moment it sinks in and she completely shuts up. But after a couple of seconds, the thought of it makes her smile mysteriously.

"Really? Did I come up with that?"

I nod and walk over to my desk to grab a copy of the document out of my left drawer. She looks at the pile of paper in awe as I'm taking a seat on my precious, leather chair.

"What's that?"

She sits down on top of my lap, which automatically makes me put my arms around her.

"That's _your_ idea, fully worked out, financial stuff and all. I made it. I made it for you."

She frowns, completely startled and turns around on my lap. Her skinny body presses some bones on my fragile skin and it kind of hurts.

"For me?"

The cutest smirk of all. I nod again and show her my big, proud smile: "For you. You deserve this, Brittany. You're a genius. This will save the company."

She's not completely convinced.

"Sex toys." she repeats a couple of times.

It always nice to observe her while an idea sinks in. It's a little bit like waiting for the light to come on when you've already turned the switch - you know it's gonna happen, but it sometimes takes a while. And you're so happy when that moment arrives when you can finally see through the darkness.

"It _is_ actually something I alone would propose, isn't it?"

Her cute, disturbing way of thanking me. I chuckle and put my head against her shoulder. _It is_. Imagine all the wonderful, innovating designs she'll come up with. I mean: this girl's living in a fantasy world that makes Walt Disney seem like a rookie. And she's slept with more women than Hugh Hefner. That combination? Pure gold.

When she starts staring at her right hand, an impressed and mysterious expression suddenly appears on her face. I ask her what's going on. Is she thinking about the document? About the future of this company? The impact that her silliness will have on us all? But the smile grows and she's close to expressing her joy through tears.

"Brittany, what are you laughing about?"

"Uncle Alex thinks I did this. Did you see the look on his face when he had to tell me I proved him wrong?"

Given, it is kind of funny.

"And then he shook the hand that I put down your pants a minute before."

A disgusted sigh leaves my mouth and I poke her hard enough to express my annoyance.

"You're unbelievable!" I tell her.

"Unbelievably sexy!" she corrects me while kissing me on the lips.

That's right.

* * *

_**Hope you guys liked it ! Let me know what you thought about it ... xxx**_


	16. DAY 246 - Experimental research

**Finally got the time to update. ... This is an interesting sex toy-ish chapter. Enjoy ;)**

* * *

**Day Two Hundred and Forthy Six.**

"I believe in you, Santana."

Her words are soaked in confidence as they warm my heart. We just left my parents' house, where we stopped by to tell them some exciting news. It starts from now on: the company will produce sex toys soon. It's weird. I don't think I ever really believed they would actually do something with the idea. But Gramps and Grams, out of all people in this family, seem to believe in it. More than that, they want to put their faith in Brittany. Who would've thought? Not many people will realize it's actually us, kind of to protect the image of the company. Not important, really. What _is_ important, is that it'll be coordinated from Atlanta, where they've bought a factory and where the first steps will be thought out. Ten long hours away from Lima. And since it was Brittany's idea, they asked her to move over there and organize everything.

At first, there was massive panicking. But after giving it a deep thought, my girl said yes. Something tells me she's not too confident about it, though. There's so much here that encourages her to decline the offer. But she smells the opportunity, I guess. She's thankful for the chance. And she knows that this is sort of my big dream - to make it big in the business world and leave a big footprint on the company's future. Exactly what I wanted..

O_f course_ I'm going with her. I mean, why wouldn't I? But I confessed my doubts about leaving, as well: how I will miss my parents, my friends, ... my normal life. And a slight fear sneaks up on me, telling me I won't be able to cope with all the work lying ahead. So Brittany S. Pierce took me by the hand and kissed me on the cheek a minute ago. She told me that - since it was my entire business plan in the first place - I deserve this opportunity more than her. That it's mine to grasp and make it succeed. And when I didn't seem totally convinced, she said "I believe in you, Santana", with piercing baby blue eyes and the most honest look I've ever seen. So there's no other option but to believe her. When that girl looks at you with so much faith, you're lost and you cave in. Simple as that. I smile and hold her in my firm embrace. God, I love this girl.

So ... We're going to Atlanta. And normally, I'd be afraid - and never admit to it of course. But I know she's coming with me and that makes everything okay. Sure, as I said: I'm going to miss Quinn and my parents. But I have her - and that's enough. That's more than I could ask for. As long as she's with me, it'll all be alright.

I can tell that Brittany's completely overwhelmed, even though she'll never say it out loud. There's this sudden change in her life and it's not like the previous ones she've known. It's not another class at school or a hot new teacher walking into her life. It's not a brand new car that her dad bought her. It's not some pretty girl getting in line to screw her - no, it's life itself that's probably going to screw her. We know this isn't her obvious way of living. She's the party girl. The one that refuses to take life seriously. And now I've managed to put a spotlight on her head and make everybody realize how wonderfully talented she can be.

Thinking about it, I never really asked for her permission to do that - to put her in that position.

I look up to her and she's softly smiling, even though it's not at all convincing.

"Are you okay with all of this, Britt-Britt?"

She waits a couple of seconds before she nods: "As long as you're with me, it'll be okay. Right?"

That last word came out hesitantly. Santana typical smiling going on right now: exactly my thoughts - _as long as we're together._

"Right." I assure her. "We can do this."

My eyes wander to the house we just left. Mom and dad weren't _that_ pleased. They barely see me now, how on earth will we ever keep in touch when I'm ten hours away from here. Mom was going all Lima Heights on Brittany - and the girl didn't understand a word of it. Spanish rambling isn't the easiest to understand, I'll tell you. My dad was a lot more understanding, but still not overly excited about it. I get it, they want to keep me close to home.

"Dad's stopping by at your Gramps' tomorrow. Okay?"

The man still isn't feeling better and dad should know more about his condition tomorrow morning, when he gets some test results.

"Thanks for all of this, babe. I'll feel much better when he'll finally be healthy again." she says.

I shrug, because my dad did most of the work.

"Let's go home." she suggests, while dragging me along to the car. "We have something to celebrate."

* * *

On our way to the bedroom, there's a lot of reckless kissing and groping going on. We seem to be in a hurry, even though we have an entire night to make love. All the lights stay out - there's no time to press the switch. We pass Lord Tubbington, who's annoying watching us going at it _again_. That cat must have many sleepless nights because of us. Probably even nightmares. He's still fat and boring - and, according to Brittany, addicted to cigarettes. But I must admit, that animal and I are getting along really well lately. He's always sitting next to me when I'm religiously watching the reality shows I follow. And whenever Brittany's out somewhere, and we're left behind, the two of us play around like little children. The most active you'll ever see the little blob of fat.

Brittany presses her lips firmly against mine and sucks all the air out of my mouth. I feel the greed in her behavior, in the way she's putting her hands on my body. There's an unsatisfying desire to touch me everywhere she can reach. Up and down, from left to right, soft and rough - her fingers discover every inch of my skin. When we're about to arrive at the side of the bed, she stumbles during her backwards walk and accidentally drags my work outfit from today off the drawer. A dull thud surprises me when it drops to the ground and I quickly push my girlfriend back a little bit. She's not bothered by it, so instead of looking from where the sound came from, she tries to kiss me again.

"No, wait. There was something in my pocket, I think."

I let go of her and bend over to grab the stylish jacket from the cold tiles. Inside the left pocket, my fingers find a cellphone. _Fuck_. The one from work. I gasp, because when I push a button to check on cracks or something, the device doesn't respond at all. A slight panic takes over my entire body. Oh, my God. It's broken.

"Brittany!" I shriek and it finally raises her attention.

"Yes, honey?"

She's undressing herself a little bit further - being practical and all.

"You broke my phone. The one from work."

I sound very annoyed, but of course she's not impressed. She shrugs, because this means nothing to her: "I'll get you another one, don't worry."

"That's not the point. I need this one to reach my contacts. How do you manage to break something you never use?"

She smiles and sneaks up on me.

"By touching it once." she says.

"Obviously."

Her goofy face almost makes me forget about how mad I should be. And how mad Alex will be when he finds out. But she promises to make it up to me. Tomorrow, she'll fix me a new one and nobody will ever have to know. Being the daughter of the boss has its benefits. Somehow, she's convinced her magic fingers will fix the damn thing, though. Something about this family and electronics. Just because a factory makes them and technicians create them, they think they're the Gods of electronics. Let me tell you: they really aren't. One day Jacob broke his laptop and after six stubborn days of failed attempts to fix the damn thing, I just bought him a new one out of frustration. Brittany's exactly the same: she has no clue about technology, but that doesn't stop her from being fascinated and intrigued by the challenge.

"So I was thinking that we could try something new, babe. Can you ..."

But I immediately notice she's not paying attention to me. I frown, because - _hello, Santana Lopez speaking over here_! I wave. Still, nothing. She's fixated on the device.

"Britt-Britt?"

Gently. She has switched to her own phone now. Probably Googling all kinds of ways to fix a goddamn broken smartphone.

"Brittany?"

Not that gentle anymore, but still nothing. Unlike any other woman in the world, she's not capable of doing two things at once. So I take matters into my own hands and decide that I'll need to force her to pay attention to me. My fingers gently unbutton the upper part of my white blouse, while kicking off my shoes. I smirk, because this is what I do best: being _absolutely_ smoking hot and being _absolutely_ aware of it. The fabric slides down my shoulders. Now the blouse is hanging loosely around my waist, barely covering up my breasts. There's no bra to be found - the only thing holding my majestic twins up are some _chicken fillets_. They are gone before she looks up, too. The jeans I'm wearing get pushed down along my caramel legs. I step out of them and make my way over to the bed again. She's still anything but interested, so I call out her name one last time.

"Brittany, dear. Mind if I start without you?"

Something sounds off, because she looks up and frowns: "What?"

By the time her eyes reach my smoking hot, nearly naked body, the phone's written off. My time to shine right now, that's right, girl. The tips of my fingers play around with the hem of the blouse. The loose buttons hang down my cleavage and the look in her eyes says it all. Sometimes, she's like a little girl staring at the window of a candy story when she's looking at me.

"Now come here, I need you to help me with something." I command her.

She seems excited and allows me to drag her to the bed. Both phones get dumped on the night stand.

"Strip down." I tell her.

I'm not asking. Santana Lopez doesn't ask. Santana demands - and she gets it.

My girl frowns curiously, but eventually does as she's told. A naked Brittany S. Pierce - it doesn't get any better than that. Really. Her muscled tummy is the hottest thing on earth. And her arms, her legs, her back - I shiver. She has such a beautiful, toned body.

"Now lie down on the bed!"

Again, she listens. Her eyes don't leave my cleavage. She's enchanted. Her body spreads on top of the soft mattress.

"What's this about?" she wants to know, as curiosity is taking over.

"You know, I think we need to do lots of market research."

She's not following.

"Well, we're going to Atlanta soon, aren't we?"

She nods. In a couple of days. I straddle her and she suddenly realizes that I am not wearing any panties. The length of the blouse kept that fact hidden all the time. She gasps and chuckles.

"Well, if I expect you to come up with awesome and mind-blowing new toys, I'll need to offer you some experimental time."

Something tells her to remain relatively oblivious. Maybe she really is. I stare into her eyes and smirk again. I love it when she has no idea what's about to happen. Everything moving inside of me right now - utter love, devotion, happiness, arousal - translates through our visual interaction. She picks up on it.

"You're totally eye-fucking me."

A confident giggle lights up her entire face as the words leave her precious mouth.

I shake my head: "I'm not. I'm eye-making-love with you."

_Great, Santana. That's just lame._ It sounds too cute. Too adorable to still be sexy, if you ask me. But strangely, my dorkiest behavior turns her on. I lean forward and level the hundreds of freckles that highlight her pretty face. She smiles patiently - like she's expecting me to bend down and kiss her. But my hands leave the mattress and they travel, along with the rest of my body, to the upper drawer of the night stand. I open it with a firm pull and bring out a little black box she has never seen before. Bought it a couple of hours ago, to surprise her.

"What's that?"

I keep quiet and sit back down on top of her. The box is offered to her. It has a cute, little, red bow on top of it. She rips it off right away. The girl has no patience, just like Quinn has no tact. And ... well, just like I have no sympathy ... What's inside of the box makes her widen her eyes massively. I'm impressed how much, actually.

"Santana."

I smirk - have I actually stopped doing that since I started this? - and amusingly watch her aroused face.

"Yes, Brittany?"

"This is a strap-on." she informs me.

A soft, teasing hum leaves my mouth while my index finger draws circles on her bare tummy.

"Is it really?"

She nods. Her eyes can't let go of the purple dildo. Underneath the soft, silicone mass, there's a leather harness.

"Oh, my God." she utters.

Suddenly, she looks relieved or something.

"I am so happy you didn't buy one that looks like a penis. This actually looks like an overweight worm, which is so much better."

_That's disgusting_. It kind of takes a little bit of the fun out of it. I pat her softly against her thighs and she seems to appreciate that.

"Shut up. You're ruining it."

"I'm not." she claims. "Can I put it on?"

But I have other plans, actually. I tell her that she can't and she's confused.

"You usually act like the guy when it comes to fucking. You like being in control. You always make me come in the middle of my office or on the kitchen floor or when there are friends in the other room. I never get to do that with you."

That expression on her face, it's obvious that she's proud of that fact. She has such a controlling power over me - and she's very much aware. What can I say? Sex with Brittany S. Pierce is just something massively addictive. I move my pelvis teasingly downwards before I lift myself from her body to get up on my feet. The harness is now in my hands. And all she can do is watch with her jaw dropped. _Perfect_. I put the leather over my feet and pull it up along my thighs. That staring, it's enchanting. Her eyes are inspecting every inch of my long, caramel legs. My blouse covers up the spot where I slowly guide the harness to its destined place, while my breasts almost fall out of the piece of clothing. I turn around. Attaching the dildo to the part I'm wearing is still kind of new to me and it might spoil the sexiness of it all.

When I straddle her again, she thrusts her body backwards when the cool material slides against her skin. Brittany seems somehow overwhelmed. I thought she had a lot more experience when it came to this.

"What's wrong? Haven't you done this before?"

"I have. But it was always dark and I was always kind of drunk. And it was never this sexy."

That makes no sense.

"What do you mean, a strap-on is a strap-on, no?"

She shakes her head and looks up to me: "It's the fact that you are wearing a strap-on. You're fucking sexy wearing that thing."

I'm flattered. Also, she usually wore the piece when she used one in the past, as I seem to remember from one of her many stories about her sex adventures.

"Now what do I do? I'm kind of new to this, you know."

"To what? Using sex toys?"

I shake my head, trying to contain my excitement. I used a vibrator during numerous nights when I still dated guys. Even with Jacob, I couldn't seem to survive without my little, pink, vibrating dolphin. But I can't make it seem too obvious. She'd think that I had terrible sex in the past. It wasn't. Not always. Not _that_ terrible, anyway.

"To fucking you like this." I clarify.

She's intrigued and licks her upper lip.

"Market research, right?" she repeats, just to make sure again.

I nod and bend over to press my upper body down her torso. It makes her shiver with joy. Her nipples are already hard. This one should be easy - I can tell she's totally ready for this little experiment. She automatically spreads her legs, I didn't even hint at it. My body falls down between them and it causes the strap-on to touch her most sensitive part. A little gasp for air shows how excited she actually is. I can smell her. I can smell the fluids that stick against my skin instantly. I love it. We kiss and it starts off slowly. Like, full of love and passion. But the rhythm quickly speeds up. I nibble her bottom lip and pull it along far enough for it to finally pop back. She giggles. My lips travel from her jawline to her earlobe. My tongue puts short licks on the tastiest skin I've ever tasted in my life. Her back arches, which pushes her breasts even firmer against me. I feel the toy between my leg and how it unintentionally rubs up and down her vagina. The friction drives her slightly mad and it's wonderful to witness. She has no intention of pulling my blouse off. Something about the white - and the combination with the leather, I can tell she really appreciates the strange look. It's kind of kinky and hot. I admit: I pull it off perfectly.

After a reasonable amount of kissing her collarbone, I push myself up a little. My hand starts at her mouth, where she bites my middle finger in a sexy way, and travels down her body in a seductive way. My short nails scratch her pale skin. She doesn't mind at all.

I brought another thing as well: lubricant. It was the last thing in the black box, which is placed next to us on the bed. When I squeeze the little tube and put it on the toy - even though there are more convenient things to do - the purple silicon covering my core starts to shine and glister. She analyzes the entire situation, still extremely impressed by my though act I'm keeping up. I'm being in control tonight. The juice smells like strawberries. Of course it does: Brittany likes strawberries, I thought of that.

"Get up." I tell her rather stern, while moving my body away from her.

She frowns and waits until I explain myself a bit more. Here I am, covered in one simple piece of clothing, ordering her to listen to me.

"Get up on your knees."

"Why?" she wants to know.

I smile mysteriously and snap my fingers to get her moving. Eventually, she listens and turns around on her stomach, so her strong arms can push her up on her hands and knees. She's facing the headboard, patiently awaiting my next move. My body gets closer to hers and I press my hips against her perfect, round ass. The sex toys is in between our bodies, cold enough to surprise us both when it hits our skins. The lubricant sticks a little bit, but it's kind of hot to experience. I bend over and kiss the pale, muscled back that's there to witness and caress. My lungs gasp for air every time I plant a soft kiss on her body. She breathes heavily, head thrown back with joy. One of my hands finds its way to the harness. I grab the dildo and slide is along her right thigh. She reacts exactly as I imagined: with soft moaning and significant hip thrusting.

"Are you ready, babe?"

She nods, so anxious for what's about to come that she can't even say anything anymore. All she wants right now is to feel this thing inside of her, I can tell. I guide the strange object to the entrance of her vagina. _This is doggy style, right? Even when lesbians do it? I mean, I guess. Are there other terms for it? _I sigh, because it's such a typical thing to do when I'm in the middle of something like this. One more thought of it and I might even Google to make sure.

_Stop analyzing, Santana. This isn't a freaking English midterm._

She's so incredibly wet down there that the lubricant probably wasn't necessary at all. When the top of the dildo starts to find its way inside of her, she gasps for air. Her hands turn into fists that drag the sheets of the bed along with her movements. This is really, really strange. Like, I know that I'm fucking her, but I'm not using my fingers or my tongue ... I'm just here, softly pressing my core up and down like a guy would do. But it's so freaking hot to see her this submissive. The silicon toy disappears further inside of her with every careful thrust of my hips. I ask her if she's alright - I don't want to hurt her. No reaction, only a deep, satisfied sigh. I guess that's a yes. She arches her back again and removes one of her hands to the headboard to stabilize herself. I put my hands on both sides of her ass and stare at the device going in and out of her core. My jaw drops, because I never expected to be this aroused myself by all of it. I just imagined it'd be fun for her to experience and that it'd be pretty meaningless for myself while I was ... _doing_ her. But this is freaking getting-off-simply-by-watching material. Her ass bounces against my hip bone with every repeating movement of our bodies. She's so enjoying this. The soft moaning has changed into loud, steady shrieks of pleasure. My fingers claw in her skin firmly, like I need to keep total control of her in order to push the strap-on deep enough inside of her as long as I can.

After a minute or two, my right hand drags her bend over body up, so her back touches my chest. I love how we connect so perfectly - how the shape of her body fits perfectly into mine. We're puzzle, still are. Her arm reaches behind, over her shoulder, to hold on to the back of my head. I have my face buried deep inside her neck, which allows me to kiss her naked skin. She's sweating heavily. This position seems to be even more intense. The muscles in her stomach are so tensed that my hand picks up on every single movement.

"Fuck, Santana. This is even better."

I smile. My hips are curved deep underneath her, where she has her legs widely straddled over them. I'm inside of her so deeply right now that my clitoris gets stimulated as well. I feel it every single time the dildo disappears to the furthest point in her vagina. Brittany's panting so hard right now that it nearly deafens me - my ear is right next to her mouth. She grabs my hair in a slightly dominant way and sits down even more on top of me. My fingers that are on her stomach move to her lower parts, where they find her swollen clit. She's _so_ wet. I play around with it, to excite her even more. It works. My tongue sensually licks from her collarbone all the way up to her earlobe.

"Santana?" she pants heatedly.

"Yes?"

Her grip on my hair is getting firmer. She's almost there, I can tell.

"I'm gonna come. Fuck, I'm gonna come so hard." she says, almost overwhelmed by that idea.

It excites me so much. Knowing that I am giving Brittany S. Pierce, the hottest girl in town, a massive orgasm is the best feeling in the world. While my one hand is effectively finishing the job, placing circles on her clit, the other one is kneading the flesh of her intoxicatingly perfect breasts. I'm still pushing myself up against her entrance like a crazy person, and it's starting to become extremely exhausting. I can't feel my legs anymore, but the fact that she's close to reaching her climax keeps me going.

Her body starts to produce small shocks that take over her muscles at a steady pace. It's her orgasm, invading her nerves. She shrieks extremely loud - again: thank God that we don't have neighbors - and stops the automatic thrusting she's been doing all along. Her body freezes magically - I'm the only one still moving. Her mouth's wide open, a perfect way for her lungs to gasp for much needed fresh air. The purple dildo's not so easy to push and pull in and out of her anymore - her inner muscles must be holding a grip on it inside of her vagina. Such a fascinating thing, the female orgasm.

Her body softens up again and that's my cue to slowly speed down. Her climax, which lasted longer than usually, is now over. She can't handle any more of the brutal and totally hot fucking. Her body finds support against mine, while small, rhythmic thrills - the aftershocks - flow through her entire existence.

"That was ..."

She can't utter the words. I kiss the side of her cheek. She's still sitting on top of me, the dildo completely inside of her. I don't know if it's a good moment to move. I'll just let her decide on that, when she's ready.

"That was fucking amazing."

I smile, completely satisfied about my achievement, and nibble her earlobe.

"I just fucked you like a guy." I tell her, naughtiness coloring my voice.

If something like this won't sell, I don't know what will: this is perfection. She shakes her head exhausted and finally realizes she's still holding on to my hair. Her hand lets go of the black strings and falls down beside her body.

"No. You just fucked me Lopez style."

I laugh out loud, because it sounds so wrong ... and ghetto. And Lima Heights Adjacent-_ish_.

"I'm going to like this new job." she finally concludes. "And all the research."

* * *

**_So, did you guys like it? Let me know!_**


	17. DAY 247 - Brittany's VLC

**So I've been thinking about this (and the upcoming) chapter(s) a lot - that's why it took me a while to update. I know a lot of you appreciate the fluff and careless Brittana existence that's been a huge part of this fanfic. I like it as well, I like to think that you don't necessarily need cheating, boys or babies to make a lesbian story interesting. I like to use situations that have nothing to do with the love they feel for each other - external influences, really. **

**And I've been doing a lot of the smut and the fluff and your loyalty and support has been awesome. So ... some of you won't really appreciate this next move. But I hope you'll stick with me, because I absolutely promise you that I will use the shit that's about to go down to prove how perfect they are for each other. Let me put this differently: it'll make much more sense than the shit RIB often writes ;)**

* * *

**Day Two Hundred and Forty Seven.**

"What if I won't be able to do all of it?" Brittany asks me with anxious eyes.

I let my hand caress the upper part of her back and move closer to her on the bench we're sitting on. It's a wonderful day at the park. People and children are running around everywhere. Honestly, I never thought I'd like normal, boring moments like these. But I adore them. Spending time with Brittany out here is awesome. Her fingers are playing around with the skirt covering my crossed legs. The poor girl is so very nervous. About everything really. Most of all about her Gramps, although she's not too willing to admit. I read it in her eyes. My girlfriend's not really dealing well, she never does when it comes to bad things - and I hate it. She's basically not telling me anything. Brittany's had a pretty comfortable life up until now, you know. Never money troubles, never girlfriend troubles, never an _actual_ girlfriend to have troubles with. Even her coming out was kind of easy. She just told her parents one day while they were enjoying a Saturday lunch and instead of it hitting like a bomb, both of them just smiled, told her "That's very exciting, baby!" and finished their plates. But now her Gramps' is really, really sick. I've seen the tough man, lying on the couch, dehydrated and exhausted. It's so surreal. So confronting. Dad took him to the hospital for a final test. We should know more later today.

A little frown on her face and my entire body immediately analyzes the shit out of her sadness - that's how far we've come. I know exactly what she's thinking when she's thinking it, sometimes. But that's not the point. The point is that I want her to tell me. I want her to want to tell me. Get it? That little piece of personality is still missing when it comes to emotional connection. It's still not wanting and craving to tell me everything she's thinking about. Should I be this sad about it? Should I care so much that she might not be the most outspoken and emotional blabber in the world? Maybe it's just me? I mean, I've had hook ups with guys more emotional than her - it might not be the weirdest thing in the world. But I can't stand to see her this disturbed and sad. This is a wonderful day, one of our last here in Lima. She should be enjoying it.

"Everything will be alright, Brittany." I try to comfort her. "With work _and_ with Gramps."

"Promise?" she asks, while facing me with begging eyes.

I choke, because, no, I can't promise. What if there is _something_ ... you know - seriously wrong? I can't make promises that aren't in my control.

"Don't worry." I try to work around the suiting answer. "My dad will call us later, okay? Let's be happy to be here in the sun. _I have you_."

She smiles softly, because this is a thing we say all the time: "_And you have me_."

Such a soft and husky sound. Reminds me of Quinn.

"You want to go home and watch some SpongeBob Squarepants?"

Such a lovely suggestion of me. Britt adores SpongeBob. Tubbs always sits right next to her when she's watching. They are like a pair of overexcited kids, _fangirling_ until they nearly faint. I hate the show, though. So whenever she's at it, I prepare dinner or get the last of the work done for the day. But she isn't half as happy as I expected her to be. A little shrug shows how she's not interested. That means trouble.

"Brittany?" I shyly ask, while rubbing my nose affectionately along her cheek.

She looks up to me and the blueness in her eyes is faint.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to talk about it? About Gramps, I mean. Or Atlanta?"

But she's smarter than anyone I know - she knows I'm forcing her to open up. Her emotionless face is now turned into a slightly angry one.

"Why are you so pushy?"

I'm confused. This is not how I expected things to go. I thought she'd get the hint - and she'd be relieved to finally talk about it. All kind of natural and self-explanatory. But now she's mad and I don't know why.

"I'm sorry." is the only thing I can come up with. "I just ... care about you."

Her eyes soften again and she shakes her head too uninterested. But I'm clueless and curious at the same time.

"Never mind." she finally mumbles.

A kid tosses his ball our way and she kicks it back with her foot.

I don't agree with her: "No, Brittany, I _do_ mind. Why are you acting like this?"

"Why are _you_ acting like this? What's the freaking deal, Santana? I'm worried about leaving the place where I grew up and I'm worried about him, that shouldn't be explained, right?"

I'm worried about all of that, as well. But I'm starting to get the clue. She's not too happy about moving. She's right: everything we know is here. Our family, our friends, our favorite places, ... Nobody else can tell, but I know that it scares the shit out of her. I sigh and search for her eyes. There used to be little sparks in there that have disappeared and I wonder if it's my fault. Have I pushed her?

"You know, you haven't been to college in the last couple of months, you don't go out, we haven't been horseback riding in weeks, ..."

Let me tell you, I'm not too sad about that last one. She doesn't even look up to me as I'm rambling. I lower my head and shrug: "You didn't even bake a chocolate cake. And Tubbs asked me about his weekly dress-up party yesterday. Something's up and you won't tell me."

Any other person would call me a mental case - they don't know that these little things are Brittany's VLC - Value of Life Criteria. But my somewhat thorough approach has a bad effect on her, just like a minute ago. She gets up from the bench and walks away from me, while throwing her hands up in the air with frustration.

"Jesus Christ, my grandfather is in the hospital right now and you're questioning me like I'm a criminal."

That's a little dramatic, even for her. Some people around her throw a weird look. I roll my eyes and cross my arms._ Great, a public fight. _

"I'm not questioning you, Brittany! I'm just trying to finally understand what's going on with you! Don't you think I feel that there's something wrong?"

She's not answering me - she's not even facing me. _Stubborn woman!_

"I'm awake at night, wondering what's going on. Do you hear that, Brittany? I don't _sleep_ anymore since I told you we're going to Atlanta. Is it me? Am I doing something wrong? Because I'm starting to believe that I'm not a good enough girlfriend for you anymore. I feel like I forced you to do something that you don't want to do."

She turns around, because she can hear the desperation in my voice and that's killing her.

"No ... Don't say that. You're a perfect girlfriend, Santana. Absolutely perfect."

I sniff and withhold tears that are trying to break through: "Then what is it? Tell me, please, because I need to know. If you want me, I'll beg. I'll fucking beg."

I'm not joking. Truth is, I'm already doing it right now. She walks over to me again and kneels in front of me. Her hands are cupping mine, on my lap.

"I can't tell you, Santana." she whispers carefully.

I'm confused.

"Why not?"

"Because you're kind of ..."

She frowns and rephrases before she says anything wrong: "There's things about us that make me feel ... shallow."

"Shallow?" I repeat with wonder.

That sounds ten times worse than awful. I thought she just said that I had nothing to do with this? She catches my confusion and sighs deeply.

"I haven't been to college anymore, because why would I?"

I don't know what's happening right now. Are we fighting or genuinely talking? College is her favorite place on earth. She hasn't been there in months and that started way before we knew we'd move to Atlanta.

"But you had friends there." I try cautiously.

Her hands leave my body and they rub her troubled face. Then, a vexed laugh leaves her mouth and her head makes little, rejecting movements:

"Those weren't my friends, Santana. Those were my _fuck_ buddies."

I hate that term. It's genuinely disgusting and the way she emphasizes the word _fuck_ makes it even worse.

"And I don't go out anymore because I ..."

I wait, arms crossed in front of my belly. I know: because those so called fuck buddies are around, she doesn't have to say. She finds it hard to pick out the appropriate words, because she doesn't want to hurt me.

"That's why you stared at that girl so long at the party."

She frowns, confused and all: "What?"

"You're birthday party. You were distant and sad and ... Now I know why."

It's dawning. My eyes wander to a place far to the right. Some annoying kid is yelling at his parents way too loud. One more minute and I'll throw a rock at him. But Brittany's numb reaction catches my attention again. She's not telling whether I'm right or wrong. She's smart enough not to question my ability to judge.

"Santana, listen to me ... I need to tell you something and it will make no sense at all."

That doesn't surprise me. A lot of the things she tells me make no sense.

"Gramps ..." When she says his name, her voice cracks.

She closes her eyes and gets a grip of herself again.

"Gramps gave me space. I signed up for college, even though I'll never need a single college credit or a good grade, because he told me to. He told me to have fun and get it out of my system, so Uncle Alex wouldn't force me to grow up too fast. And after all of that, when I'm ready, and as soon as I'm done with all of this playing around, I'll join my family at the company."

"You don't need to do that if you don't want to." I tell her.

I'm sick of that old-fashioned expectation. She just needs to be happy with what she's doing. I look down at her and catch a disturbing smile.

"I want to. I really want to." she emphasizes. "My grandfather started this little business and it has grown out to be this massive, important company and I would be honored to make him proud, by following in his footsteps."

Her hand's placed on her heart. She secretly loves him very much.

"He's already proud of you, Brittany. I mean, this whole sex toys thing -"

"That was _your_ idea, Santana. Don't even try to act like it has anything to do with me. You just told them that."

It looks like she's finally getting this off of her chest. There's an annoyed undertone when she says it.

I don't agree: "It _was_ your idea, Brittany. You just needed a _little_ push."

She points her finger at me and it causes me to back away with surprise: "I never asked for a push."

I'm so fed up with this.

"Then what exactly did you ask for, because you won't tell me. You _never_ tell me."

"Six years." she throws back at me.

I frown and throw my hands up in the air because I have no idea what that means. This girl's made out of riddles. My perfect Latina ass leaves the bench and I follow her previous route around the lawn.

"Brittany, speak English!"

"I asked Gramps for six simple, carefree years." is her repeating explanation. "Six years to drink and party and have sex with whoever I want."

"Whoever you want, huh?" is my snarky response when I turn around to face her.

Brittany's on her feet now, looking fierce and serious.

She nods, kind of let down: "Yeah."

Something feels wrong. I try to remain brave, but it's getting harder.

"So what are you trying to tell me?" I ask, surprisingly courageous with a false smirk on my face.

Her blue eyes cross mine and they reflect the sunlight, like she's about to cry. Except she's not. She holds it together, mouth slightly agape with confusion.

"This is year five." she finally tells me, making it sound like the most normal thing on earth.

I almost laugh with rage: "Are you fucking kidding me?"

She's obviously not. Only Brittany could make it sound as common as she just did.

"Really? That's the very best you've got? Six fucking years to screw around and I happened to arrive too early?"

She's shutting me out, because she's annoyed by me and my behavior, that much is obvious. But I think she's not aware of how insulting and hurtful the things she just said really are. There's no way to respond to what she just said, I suddenly realize. She's hurt and confused and for once, I can't help her. She thinks her grandfather is dying and gets confronted with life - how short it can be. And she's scared shitless about moving and finally taking responsibility for once. Of course she's going to run off like a child. That's what she does. That's how her entire fucking family functions. If this conversation would've been happening with Quinn, I'd walk over to her to literally slap some sense into her blond head, but right now, I just turn around and leave her behind. It surprises me that she's not even trying to hold me back. My fingers grasp the keys in my bag that will allow me to get in the car. Some tears are fighting hard to break through my strong eyes, and after a few attempts, they succeed. My car's the safe place to land and as soon as my back hits the warm, leather of the seats, I squeeze my eyes and bang the steering wheel. It hurts, but I don't fucking care right now.

_Fuck you, Brittany S. Pierce._

* * *

To make things even worse, Rachel freaking Hobbit Berry organized some sort of going away party tonight for both Britt and me. Oh, no, correction, the actual worst part about that is that it's a theme party. _Dreamy_. What kind of freaking theme is that? I decided to dress up as a very strict and powerful business man. I'm wearing a very feminine, black tuxedo - no shirt underneath to cover my white bra, though - a tie and a fitting fedora. In my left pocket, there's a golden pocket watch and I even drew a charming, funny mustache above my upper lip. My hair's pulled back in a tight ponytail. I'm the most handsome man that's ever walked this earth. When Quinn's finally picking me up, since Brittany's been MIA since we fought earlier at the park, my oldest friend, wearing an angel outfit, informs me that I might have taken the theme a little bit the wrong way, because Rachel Berry apparently attempted to organize some sort of heavenly atmosphere.

"Then tell that freaking Hobbit that she calls her theme _Heavenly_ in the future, for God's sake. I thought it was about dreams and goals in life."

Quinn shakes her head and starts to giggle.

"You look hot as hell, though, Lopez."

I shrug, tell me something new.

"Let's go." I tell her. "I need to get monumentally fucked."

"Tequila?" She proposes.

Music to my ears.

* * *

After a couple of hours, my girlfriend shows up. At first, I pretend not to see her, but her outfit's just too ridiculous to not comment on it.

"What are you supposed to be?"

She's wearing some fluffy, animal-kind white suit and I have nog idea what it represents.

"I'm a unicorn!"

"Oh ..."

I'm not convinced. It's so ugly. And her nice ass is like ... magnified by twenty or something. I bet it has a pillow down there.

"And look." she points to the weird hat on top of her head. "I even have a horn, to poke people."

I smile mischievously: "Wanky."

She softens up and kisses me gently on the cheek: "I'm getting us some drinks, okay?"

I nod.

* * *

Brittany's talking to a bunch of girls at the other side of the dance floor. Instead of apologizing, acting like nothing happened suits her better. I'm annoyed, but strangely glad she at least made the effort to come. Something about this covers up an apology, as strange as it might seem. Quinn and Rachel have gone off to the ladies room, so now I'm just stranded at a deserted table, playing around with my phone. This is supposed to be a goodbye party, but there are no goodbyes and, well, it isn't a party either. Every time I look up to search my girlfriend, I notice yet another slut approaching her. Old friends. Oh, no, _fuck buddies_, as she calls them. They haven't seen her around her in a while. I can't stand it. The look in her eyes is exhausting, like she's trying really hard not to kiss them and relapse to her old behavior, just so she could dive in and forget about all of the fights and the worries and the complications of life. She'd really like to, because just a couple of months ago, everything about her life was a lot easier. And she's craving for that feeling again: a careless life, a healthy family, ... She's so bad with situations like these. Sometimes I wish she'd just fucking grow up a little more.

"Mind if I sit?"

When I turn my head, I find Jacob. He came as well.

"I do."

He's surprised by my annoyed answer, but decides not to care. He sits down on the empty chair across from me.

"But hey, feel free to ignore me." I mumble.

Ever since he was rude to me, he's been trying to make up for it. Everything he does, is covered in apologies. Why do you think I got this opportunity to just tag along with Brittany and move to Atlanta? But this is not the right time. No, because this situation states everything he told me back then and I can't accept that.

"I bought you a glass of wine." he says nicely while putting the gift in front of me.

I sigh deeply and haven't bothered facing him once since he sat down.

"I don't want it."

My fingers push the glass back his way.

"Santana, are you okay?"

I guess he stills knows exactly when I'm off. I nod, anything but convincing, but he gets the clue. Without saying another word, he gets up and leaves me alone. _Perfect_. When I look to the right, there's Quinn and Rachel approaching the table again. The Hobbit, she's overly excited about our move. I bet she's jealous she can't tag along. But that would make her miss Quinn too much, so ... My fingers make their way across the tabletop and grab the cold material of the glass. They bring the alcohol to my lips, where I taste the bitter fluids.

* * *

Five consumptions later and I magically don't care anymore. Brittany has made her way over to me again and called me "babe" enough to use that as her official apology. My toughness, resistant to every person on earth, shatters like a tower of cards when she does that: being adorably Brittany cute. It's a gift. Her lips kiss my cheek and it's warm enough to defrost my heart again. Her chair slides closer to mine. I feel her warm embrace around my waist. That hat on top of her head is so ridiculous that I've started to appreciate it. She's still somehow lost - I see it in her eyes, but I made a promise to myself to give her a break. Gramps' condition is totally shaking her up, I can tell. I can forgive her for this. She plays with the ponytail that's appearing from underneath my fedora and smiles mysteriously.

"I'm so happy to be a person. I mean, today I was walking around at the park and I was like: what if I were an hour."

The music's loud, so I really hope that I misunderstood her: "An owl?"

She shakes her head and moves her lips close to my ear: "An _hour_."

"Wh- what?"

"What if I were an hour? You know, I'd have, like, so little time. Just sixty minutes and after that, I'd be ... gone. It's so depressing."

I smile with my mouth agape, because I can't even believe she's saying whatever it is that she's saying. I guess there some kind of deeper meaning to it.

"What _would_ you do if you were an hour?" I ask in my best attempt to play along.

She frowns and thinks about it for a while. A dirty smirk appears and I immediately know it has something to do with sex. Her imagination always revolves around sex.

"I'd spend it with you."

She surprises me with the sweetest of sweetest answers. Forget about being angry, she just wiped the reason out of my mind in a split second. My face molds together to an adorable expression and I wrap my arms around her.

"Awwww!" I utter, as I put my lips against her cheek for a couple of seconds.

She nods, a little bit proud about the perfection as well and I feel her smiling.

"But you'd definitely have to be naked." She suddenly continues.

I sit up straight and pat her against the arm: "God, I knew it. Way to ruin a perfect comment, Brittany."

She fakes a painful face and starts laughing: "Don't be like that, you look smoking hot when you're naked. You can't blame me."

Quinn, sitting on my right, asks the waitress for a refill as she's doing her best to ignore our behavior. Rachel seems intrigued, though. Then, she turns her head to us again.

"So, I heard you and Brittany are having some experimental research going on in order to come up with great designs for the toys?"

Her eyebrows are selling it perfectly. My eyes widen in shock, and Quinn is just as offended by the lack of subtlety as well. She wasn't supposed to know about that. I turn my head to my loved one and she immediately knows something's up.

"You told her? Brittany, if I wanted everyone to know about our sex life, I'd tape it."

She shrugs and looks confused: "But we already did that ..."

"Oh my - Brittany!" I utter, in order for her to stop talking immediately.

Quinn explodes with laughter and brings her hand in front of her mouth. Rachel can't help but chuckle, either. Seriously, _everybody_ knows?

"Who cares? They'll only get jealous." Brittany whispers, while putting one of her hands on my lap.

I guess she has a point. The tips of my fingers are unconsciously playing around with the edges of my bra, that has found its sneaky way to the surface. It's so hot in here. And this tuxedo is, like, not helping at all.

"On a scale of Mother Teresa to Tiger Woods, how horny are you?"

I turn my surprised face to Brittany and smile offendedly.

"What?"

I get it: I play around with my bra straps when I'm turned on. But this isn't about that. I do know what she's trying to do, though: she's out to have sex. As much as she can get. That's her way of shutting out all the pain. I knew this would come, but not this soon - or this sober.

"Want to do some shots?"

She's switching subjects so fast that I can't keep up with her.

"Shots of what?" I ask, fully confused now.

"Tequila."

_Oh, alcohol_. A quick shrug.

"I don't know. I need to get up early."

"For work, right?"

Her voice sounds kind of irritated. I know she doesn't value that excuse. But everything will change after tomorrow and she'll have to follow my footsteps from now on.

"Well, what if I promise to give you the equal amount of orgasms as you can drink shots?" is another - awesome - attempt of hers.

Quinn and Rachel are sitting right next to us and they both frown, a little bit disgusted by our behavior.

"Dear God, ever since you started to lezz each other up, you've been nothing but disgusting sex addicts. Very _public_ sex addicts." Quinn comments.

I decide not to care at all. The girl's got a point. The tips of Brittany's fingers are crawling between my crossed legs now. Teasingly. She's really appreciating my look tonight. It's crazy sexy, she told me a half an hour ago.

"So, what do you say? An orgasm a shot?"

An impressed smile takes over my face and I lift an eyebrow.

"Oh, baby, you're on!"

She's doing this to forget about the pain, I'm very sure of it. It's something typically Brittany. And even though there are a lot of things I still don't get about her behavior - even though I'd rather if she _talked_ with me - I'll let her have this one. She's allowed to get monumentally fucked tonight, and then I'll monumentally fuck her. That's how she works. That's how Brittany functions. Tonight, she needs it. There's enough time tomorrow to be mad at her.

* * *

When the chauffeur drops us off at her house, I respectfully thank him. Well, at least I think I do, because I'm terribly drunk. It takes us about ten minutes to open the front door. It's not even midnight yet. We got wasted and horny so quickly that we had to leave early. Quinn and Rachel were happy about it, because we were acting gross and clingy. When we finally enter through the front door, I push her against the nearby wall. It's cold in here, she forgot to turn on the heat again, this morning. The front door falls back in its lock. There's no sound to be heard, nothing to be seen in the darkness. Tubbs is probably sleeping already. He always is.

"Fuck me, Santana." she commands me.

She opens her own pants and guides my hand to her core. A short grasp of air leaves her mouth when she feels me down there. My hands are cold. I'm not a big fan of this. This has nothing to do with love or passion. It's lust and distraction. And that outfit of hers is anything but attractive to work with.

Brittany's eyes are closed as she tries to process my touch. This clears her mind - frees her from all the current trouble.

Suddenly, the phone sounds in the background. It's in the room next door. I ask her if she wants to get it, but she grasps my shoulders firmly and begs me not to stop. Four rings later, and countless sighs of troubled pleasure, the answering machine takes over. I freeze when her mom's voice slowly fills the silence in the house. Brittany turns her head and opens her eyes.

"Brittany, I've been calling your cell all evening, but you're not answering. Gramps got his results back. Are you home?"

Brittany gasps for air and waits a couple more seconds. I see fear taking over her entire face.

Her mom keeps trying, though: "Is Santana there? Have you lost the phone again? Pick up, please."

She frees herself from my touch and makes her way to the living room, where she finally answers the phone. Her mom luckily didn't hang up yet. I stay put in the hallway, making a fist of the hand that was just deep inside her pants. My heart's racing like crazy - anxiously waiting for the answer that's going to change everything we know.

I hear soft voices, far away from me. They keep talking. I bend over to pick up the fedora that fell off my head a couple of moments ago. Suddenly, the noise goes dead. The phone makes a funny sound when it gets put back into the station. Soft footsteps make their way to the hallway and there she appears, in front of me, with a numb expression in her eyes.

"Brittany? What's wrong? What did they say?"

Her costume is still unzipped. She sighs deeply, as if it requires her to put a massive force into it. She bites her lower lip and throws her eyes down to the ground.

"He has cancer. Gramps has cancer."

I put my hand on my heart and look away from her.

"What?"

I didn't expect that one. When I face her again, she's nearly bursting out in tears. My body makes its way over to her, where I welcome her in my comforting embrace. I don't have a clue what to tell her. She sniffs and shakes against my chest, while I pet her hair with the softest touch I can pull off.

"I'm so sorry, Britt."

"It's cancer." she repeats, softly sobbing.

I stop breathing as I feel the tearful hiccups against my chest. It is.

* * *

**So, I hope you guys all like the chapter. I've been thinking about it for a long while, so, trust me, it won't miss its effect. **

**Please let me know what you guys think of it. I appreciate the feedback! **

**xx Snicky**


	18. DAY 248 - Suitcases

**Another update. I hope you all like it. The first part is very confusing, I'm aware of that. But the last part will clarify it all ...**

**Also, there's a reference to a song halfway through the chapter. I advice you to listen to it as soon as it's mentioned, it'll make sense when you do ;) **

* * *

**Day Two Hundred and Forty Eight.**

I leave the massive building where my office's at and let my fingers cross the touchscreen in a rush. My heart's racing so fast that my ribs might be the only thing from keeping it to burst out of my body.

**_To: 3 Britt-Britt 3 (13h23)_**

_'I really need you to call me back, sweetie. Did you lose you phone? CALL ME! x San' _

She hasn't picked up her phone all day long. I have no idea where she is. She's been gone since this morning without telling me where she went and I'm officially worried. I get that she's trying to stay busy, because of her Gramps and all, but I need her to talk to me. Gramps will start treatment as from next week. Tests, examinations, chemo - Dad explained it all to us. Basically, it's going to suck massively. For all of us, but especially for him.

A deep sigh. And another one. It's filled with anger and sadness and confusion. I'm terrified - shitless - as I turn my head to face the building again. My eyes stare at my reflection in the mirroring windows. There's numbness to be found in my expression, but my mind's telling me to shake it off. I look around, while tears are trying to break through my harsh wall. It's like I'm slightly starting to panic - my entire body's shivering. There's so much that still needs to be done before ...

_Oh, God, how did this happen? _

But I can't think rationally, I need to know where she is. Brittany better be back before tonight, because ...

_What am I going to tell her?_

I sigh deeply and lower my head. My eyes memorize the trembling of my fingers. I need to tell her something very important. _Before_ tonight.

* * *

When she finally comes back home, later that afternoon, a search quickly leads her to the bathroom, where I'm hastily packing shampoo bottles and brushes. There's things happening that her mind can't understand. She sees staff people _everywhere_ carrying out boxes and suitcases that she's never seen before.

"Santana?"

She's surprised to find me here, all focussed. One deep inhalation before I dare to face her. I'm genuinely struggling to explain what's going on and she notices.

"Santana, why the hell are these people carrying -" she asks, but I interrupt her rather quickly.

"Don't be mad." I beg her, in an attempt to keep her calm.

"Then tell me what's going on." is her counter proposal. "Why are all these suitcases here? I thought we decided to wait another week."

She's talking about our move. After the news that Gramps had cancer, we postponed the departure.

Another stranger passes her and he's holding one of my favorite pillows in his hands. She forcefully takes it away from him and tells him to get lost. The obedient guy leaves us alone. I warned them that some trouble could happen. Her baby blue eyes face me again and that desperate look hurts me all the way to my heart.

"Are you leaving me?" her sudden cracked and shrill voice asks me.

Her defeated posture reflects the desperation in her mind. I open my trembling mouth and close my eyes to exhale deeply. Another second of eye contact and every spark of courage would disappear from my fragile body.

"Brittany." I softly whisper. "I'm not leaving _you_. I'm just ... _leaving_. And you aren't."

My heart is so close to literally breaking into a million pieces. I always thought that if she'd leave me, that I'd die. I still do, I guess. And now I'm doing this to her.

"What are you talking about?"

She shakes her head with disbelief so subtly that I almost miss it.

"I'm going to Atlanta." I clarify. "My plane leaves in an hour. And you're going to stay here."

I'm telling her, I'm not asking. But it's confusing her so much right now. She looks so clueless and innocent. And beautiful. My, God, she looks beautiful.

"No, I'm not."

I almost laugh at her innocent words.

"Yes, you are." I insist. "Your uncle needs someone over there to manage the brand new line of products and ... I told him I'll do it."

_If she only knew what that really means._

"We decided that we'd do this together, Santana. In a couple of weeks." she reminds me of the decision we made yesterday.

I sigh deeply and look down. _I know, Brittany. But there's things I can't tell you._

"You need to be with your family right now, Brittany. And I can't let them down by abandoning the whole idea. They _need_ me over there - business doesn't wait. And Gramps _needs_ you here."

She shakes her head again and faces me. There are tears in her eyes.

"No, I _need_ you to stay with me. You can't just ship off like that and -"

The sad truth is, I can. But her pleading triggers something inside of the calm and caring act I've managed to maintain for the last couple of minutes that surprises her: "Honestly, Brittany, don't you think you could use some time without me?"

I've studied all of this in advance. I have a perfect explanation that will convince her why I need to leave. She'll never know the truth.

"Fuck off. I don't."

Her voice is louder and fiercer than ever before. This is such a big blur for me - like I'm drunk and barely realizing what I'm doing. I guess I am. None of this was supposed to happen this way.

"You're lost, Brittany - you're so lost since we started dating and you're certainly lost now your Gramps is sick. One week won't do. You need to stay here until he's fully recovered. And while you're here, you should find yourself again. And I can't watch you do that when I'm around you. Because you make me feel weak. So weak that I can't feel my knees and I can't think straight when I look at you and it's -"

I'm talking so fast right now that I need a second to catch a breath. _What am I rambling about? What am I telling her?_

"I can't give you the space you need, because I constantly want to be around you. It's selfish and clingy, but I want to spend every second with you and ..."

She doesn't know what I'm talking about. Hell, I don't even know what I'm talking about. I'm just making up reasons. Reasons to protect her. Reasons to hide what I can't actually say out loud.

"I've always been ambitious. I went to school, I studied hard, I have clear goals. I want to make it in the business world. I wake up every day and I just _know_ that I'll make a difference at the office. And when I get home, there's love. Lots of it. Utter and honest love - for you. From you."

She nods, slightly impressed by my speech. I've practiced this part three times in the mirror the last two hours.

"And I know that, lately, the _only_ thing you experience is love ... and that's it. You used to go to college and you had fun and went to parties and acted out. You were living those six years you were talking about."

"Santana, that was just something crazy I said because -"

But I stop her abruptly. She can't interrupt my speech. It's consistent and straight to the point and considering ... She has to let me finish if I want to make my point.

"You need more, Brittany. You need fun and thoughtless behavior and ... You need to get _this_ out of your system."

God, I need to convince her so badly of my best intentions.

"_This_? All of the old and bad and stupid me, you mean?" she asks numbly.

"You're not stupid, Brittany." I ensure her with my fierce eyes.

She's starting to believe what all the others say about her. And I hate it.

"Look, we both have to help your family now. You over here and I in Atlanta."

But she's just shocked to her core. She's completely caught off guard.

"Is this about the fight we had the other day?"

The toothbrush in my hand, which is hers, disappears in a pretty bag. I can't help but taking it along with me, as a memory.

"Stop packing my stuff!" she tells me, with tears rolling down her cheeks.

I'm so much stronger than she is - and I didn't realize that until now. Another attempt to approach my soulmate, to touch her hand and calm her down. Another failure. She's heartbroken. I get it. But Atlanta has got her scared shitless since day one. She never asked for it. She just needed those six years, like they were promised to her before I walked in and made her fall in love with me. It wasn't just a fight, it was the truth when we argued about that. One drunk night, when I got jealous and I decided to kiss her - it was enough to change her life completely. And not just slowly, but at _my_ speed: thunder and lighting kind of speed. Santana Lopez speed. I needed to be around her always - non stop - and even though I realized that she was so scared to care about someone, it didn't stop me from smothering her. And now there's Gramps and ... I guess both of those are good enough reasons to leave her behind cluelessly.

"Listen, Santana, don't walk away from me!"

It's an empty threat, but she's slowly running out of ideas to get through to me.

I clearly disagree: "Actually, that's the best thing to do, sweetie. Deep down, you know that, too."

It almost sounds like a sigh. There's this indescribable fear that invades the look in her eyes and it's a terrifying thing to witness. This is the hardest thing I've ever done. God, I'm so in love with her. I'm so in love with her and I'm lying to her. My arms are caressing the bare skin of her arms. She's looking so beautiful tonight. And she smells delicious. God was bragging the day he created her.

"I don't want us to break up, Santana."

She's crying now. I nod, because I feel the same way, and silently close my eyes for a few seconds. My searching fingers surprise the trembling skin of her face.

"Brittany." I'm starting to talk but I'm not sure what I'll say.

She's anxiously waiting for what will come.

"It's just for a while. This is not an official break-up. It's just ... until we figure this shit out. You need to be strong for Gramps and take care of him. And you need to be safe and happy as long as I'm gone. "

"I feel safe and happy when you're with me."

The fact that she's always giving me back those clever responses is slowly starting to kill me. She once told me how cute I can be when I beg, be she has never seen herself doing it. It takes everything from me to not give in - not to tell her what's really behind all of this. _Focus, Santana. You don't have a choice._ I grasp on to her arm and force her to look into my haunted eyes. She's heavily breathing, barely keeping herself together. I wish I didn't have to do this. But every little part of me agrees that this is the best solution.

"I'm coming back for you, you hear me? When Gramps is healthy again and you're ready, I'm coming back for you and I'm going to marry you. Okay?"

Bitter tears make me cave, because short flashes about our perfect future together are surprising me. I'm completely ignoring the fact that she doesn't even want to get married - like, ever. She doesn't believe in marriage. She cups my face and presses a long and tender kiss on my forehead. Her eyes then fixate on my hopeless face and she's studying my every move. She understands how hard this is for me, she can read it in my eyes. Tears roll down her pale cheeks. My lips are so close to hers right now.

"You know this isn't working." I finally whisper, barely understandable.

But it's a terrible lie. She shakes her head in panic, as if the words are knives that cut through her heart.

The desperation from witnessing the sadness in her eyes is making me anxious: "Promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay?"

I'm so scared to leave her. By now we're holding each other tightly, afraid to let go.

"_You_ always take care of me. I don't want to lose you, Santana!" is her helpless answer.

I'm so scared to leave her. But if I don't, we'll lose everything.

"When will you ..."

But the sentence doesn't get to be finished, her choking hiccuping is too overwhelming. She's so tormented by her own feelings. I've never seen her like this before. I've done this. This is my fault.

"When will you be back?" is her second attempt.

It's dreadfully quiet in the room. Background noises of people have faded. My face softens and a charming, bittersweet half smile appears.

"After a drunk tequila night, you'll find me. You always find me, Britt-Britt."

Heart rending tears take over her entire face. There's nothing worse in life that seeing Brittany S. Pierce cry.

This is it.

This is goodbye.

I'm going to Atlanta.

And I have no idea when I'll see her again.

She dives into my arms and buries her head deep in my neck. I hold her so close that I might just be strangling her. What am I doing? Why am I letting go of this precious girl?

"I love you _so_ much, Santana." she cries.

Her breath warms the length of my neck. It reminds me of that day at the pool, when she told me the exact same thing with just as much fear put into it. I nod and sniff loudly.

"I love you, too, Brittany."

She escapes my embrace and surprises me by placing her soft lips on mine. I taste the sweetness of tears on them. This will be the last of her for a while. The last memory I'll get to hold on to. I need to memorize this feeling. It'll keep me warm at night. The purity of the moment will remind me why I did this.

* * *

I leave the house and the broken-hearted Brittany by shutting the door behind me. The chauffeur will drive me to the airport. I don't feel anything. I'm just numb. There are no more tears, no more confusion. Her face is the only thing I think off. Those tears, that desperation in her look. The leather of the seats feels warm and comforting. The talk I had with Brittany's mom, Susan, earlier today plays like a loop inside of my mind. She understood. She knew exactly what I was talking about when I confessed my plan to her.

"Brittany's off." she told me.

She was right. That's the point. But there's more. More she doesn't know off. More that only Alex can clarify. I get angry when I think of his name.

"Are you ready, Miss Lopez?" the driver asks me.

I confusingly look up to him and nod after a couple of seconds.

"Yeah. I'm ready." I sigh.

My face turns to the window, where the beautiful front wall of her house will be the last thing I'll see from this place for a while. Headphones, iPhone, music. I need music. My fingers press the play button and while the warm voice of a man reaches my ears, I close my eyes to finally try and breathe again.

_"Clock strikes upon the hour_

_And the sun begins to fade"_

I remember that sad look in her eyes when I closed the door. She was too startled to do anything. She wasn't angry, she wasn't crying, she was defeated.

"_Still enough time to figure out_

_How to chase my blues away"_

It's the acoustic version of Brittany's favorite:_ I Wanna Dance With Somebody _by Ben Rector. I found it on the internet about a week ago. I wish I had the guts to post a masterpiece like that on the internet. But until I do, I'll just listen to those who are more courageous than me. And this guy reminds me of every single time Brittany and I danced together to a song. Every slow dance, every upbeat night out - every movement of her rhythmic swaying and the smile burning on her face and in her eyes with every wiggle of her hips. Dancing with her, disappearing in the middle of a crowd while staring at each other, absorbing the notes of songs, it's the happiest way of passing time.

The driver heads towards the highway. I'm literally leaving everything behind right now. My family, my friends, the love of my life. And I can't feel anything. I feel nothing.

_"Ive done alright up till now_

_Its the light of day that shows me how_

_And when the night falls the loneliness calls"_

It plays on repeat all the way to the airport. And while boarding the plane. And while floating high above the ground. It's giving me strength. It's reminding me of what I left behind, but also _why_ I need to leave. All I can do is think of her. All I see is her face. Her thousands of freckles. Her baby blue eyes. But I need to get a grip. My ambition will help me with that.

And when she's ready ... I'll come home. And I'll dance with her.

* * *

I get out of the plane and inhale the cold air that Atlanta's night is offering me. It's different from back home. All around me, there are strangers - people I've never met. I already miss her like crazy. I hurt her feelings so badly, that I'm starting to get mad at myself for it. I'm a terrible person. No, actually, Alex is a terrible person. And a disgusting uncle. While wandering through the airport shops, searching for something decent to have as dinner, I flash back to earlier today, when I entered the office building to start work. But as soon as I was on my way to my office, Alex came over to me. He had been waiting for me to arrive. I got asked to join him at the office, so I did as I was told. And then shit came down. And all I could do was listen to it.

"So, you're here to collect your last stuff and hand over the work you haven't done yet?"

I frowned, because, no: we made it pretty sure at the family dinner table the night before that we'd wait another week before we'd leave for Atalanta. I told him the same thing again, but all he did was smile mischievously.

"I'm sorry, Santana, but that's not an option. You need to leave tonight if we want the production to start properly."

I frowned and laughed, because I couldn't believe what was happening: "But Brittany's not ready. She wants to stay here and take care of her Gramps. She's worried about him."

"So the old man's sick. So what? We have a company to take care of, don't you see that?"

My stomach still turns when I remember his words.

"What kind of terrible person are you? We're talking about you father. He has cancer, Alex. Cancer. You should care about that. Brittany can't leave."

But he didn't agree with me: "She has to. Do I need to remind you of the contract that both of you signed last week? You're legally bound to head over there tonight."

I put my hands up in the air and widened my eyes: "But you're CEO of this company. You can easily adjust whatever it is that -"

He cut me off before I finished my sentence to point out what a guy in his position can do exactly: "And as the CEO I can _force_ you to go over there. If you don't, there'll be consequences. Look, you two came up with this idea, you got everybody excited for it, you set this plan into motion, so you're going over there and you're going to finish whatever you started. Am I making myself clear?"

I only got slightly intimidated, because, let's face it: I'm never really impressed by anyone, except for Brittany.

"And if we don't?"

"Then I'll sue both of your asses, do you hear me? You can't win this, so don't even try. Besides, once Brittany has a lawsuit on her ass by her own family's business, she'll lose every chance she's ever had to follow in her mother's footsteps."

That's what it was all about. He wanted to exclude her from the family business, so Jacob could have it all when the next generation came along. I bet he planned it all in advance. Alex never liked the idea of Brittany joining the crew. He knows she's inventive and creative enough to actually be a better CEO than his son and that's something that scares him more than anything else.

"You're a fucking dickhead, Alex." I told him completely overtaken by my rage.

He smiled that vicious smile again and nodded: "I am. But what are you going to do about it?"

There wasn't anything I _could_ do, actually. I could run off and go to Grams and Gramps, sure, but they had enough on their minds already. And Brittany would be too pissed to think rationally, so she'd just challenge Alex to sue her. And he would. Her mother probably had no foot in the legal department as well ...

"Why are you doing this? I mean, there are many other ways to exclude Brittany from the company. Why now?"

His face softened up a little bit, enough to make me see that it was a personal thing: "You hurt my son."

It was a verbal slap in the face. I gasped for air and lowered my head with shame.

"Jacob hit rock bottom when you left him to screw around with Brittany. I think he still hasn't recovered from that. How could he? You were supposed to marry him and then you run off to be with a woman, his cousin. Such a disgrace. Such a humiliation."

I refuse to apologize for that once again: "Jacob knows I never meant to hurt him. I loved your son very much, but something changed and ..."

"And now he's reminded of that every single day. You work at the company of his family, you have cosy dinners at the same table as his parents, you take romantic walks in the communal gardens of our property. And I can see the pain in his eyes every time you and Brittany walk by, holding hands and kissing in public. It's disgusting."

"And you're a disgusting homophobic." I reply sharply.

"You can't do that to him anymore, Santana. I won't allow it. So you're going to Atlanta, do you hear me? Where he can't see the two of you together. That, or I'll sue your ass until you have nothing left but the clothes you're wearing right now."

He was enormously threatening to listen to.

"But you can't do that ..." I tried again with a pleading voice. "I can't ask Brittany to give up on everything and ..."

His dominant voice took over: "I think you can. I think you need to."

I had about twenty seconds to take it in and analyze the shit out of this terrible situation. Brittany never wanted to go to Atlanta in the first place. And all she wants to do right now is stay with Gramps, until he gets better. And when that happens, she wants to make him proud and work hard at the company he founded. She told me herself.

"What if I go?" I uttered without really thinking it through.

"What?" Alex replied confused.

I thought the exact same thing, really. But as I started speaking, I came up with a plan, and a perfect reasoning.

"What if I go and Brittany stays here? You'll have it exactly the way you want it: we'll be apart - so Jacob won't see us together anymore - and the sex toys will get their scheduled start. And nobody needs to know."

He took it into brief consideration. I guess it was smarter than I anticipated. Frankly, I would've done it all for Brittany. I would've given him one of my kidneys if it would help her. Or both.

I guess that now ... I gave him my heart.

He agreed ... And then the rest happened. And I broke up with the love of my life to save her.

A hotdog ends up being my dinner. It's late already. I need to find myself a cab and head to the apartment they picked out for me. Britts and I were supposed to live there together. Together. I lower my head and close my eyes for a second. I miss her. I miss my unicorn.

* * *

**So, I suppose that the majority of you will want to kill me right now :D Let me know what you guys think! **

**Will update very soon, I promise!**


	19. DAY 311 - Midnight phone call

**So, not too many angry reactions after the last chapter :D Great! Enjoy the next part ;)**

* * *

**Day Three Hundred and Eleven.**

I'm in bed. I've been here for the last three hours, but I'm still awake. My laptop's placed on the covers and there it is: the "Brittana Infitiny" album on my Facebook account that she once made for me. Full of our pictures. Kissing, hugging, holding hands, dancing, ...

_Fuck love._

Social media are a bitch. There are Facebook pictures to poke me in the eye. There's the profile pic of her Twitter account that makes me sick to my stomach when I realize how much I am capable of missing her. There's the voicemail - oh, how I love her voicemail - that reminds me how many cracks in her voice I've already forgotten. And don't get me started about Instagram. Her _onesies_ are to die for. I even miss that goddamned Tubbs. He's the one sleeping next to her right now.

Brittany - oh, fuck's sake, even when I think about her name, I hear the cracking in my voice as I would softly utter it ... She's doing well, at least that's what Quinn and Rachel are subtly telling me. I refuse to ask them about her. I _refuse_ to be this fragile in front of them. But they know me well. They slip me hints and facts about what's she's doing when they email of text me. And I'm so silently happy they do. Apparently she's been completely focussed on dancing lately. That's great. She loves to dance. And her grandfather is doing well, I've been told. His cancer is getting treated and it sort of looks to be heading the good way.

We haven't spoken since I left. It's not an agreement or something. She didn't ask me to not contact her, nor did I ask her to keep some distance. It's just ... I'm afraid. I'm afraid that she's mad at me. I _bet_ she's mad at me. I mean, I just _left_ her, you know. So the first day, I told myself that I'd call her the day after. And when that day arrived, I gave myself another twenty four hours to gather the courage. It didn't happen, so another twenty four passed. Time passed. The hands of the clock made their full circles round. Now we're here. We're here and I still haven't called.

It's two months later now. I still haven't heard her voice. At least not in this reality. In my dreams, we talk every night. And we kiss, or we fight, or we have mind-blowingly amazing lesbian sex. It's my perfect life, played out through memories.

Anyway: I'm a coward - I have no excuse.

And the longer it takes for me to contact her again, the harder it gets. It's easier to not be brave. It's easier to just wait and be a ... a freaking Lima loser.

I sometimes think that I've made a massive mistake. Leaving her behind seems thoughtless and ruthless and cruel. It breaks my heart every time I see her broken hearted face in my memory again. I once promised her I'd never leave. So next thing we know, her grandfather gets incredibly ill and what do I do? I leave the freaking state.

I keep telling myself that I'm doing this for her. I'm fighting hard, every single day, to do whatever I can and make this company successful, so Alex will stay satisfied and Brittany will never have to suffer his wrath. I have this enormous responsibility and it's keeping me occupied enough to prevent me from crying day and night. So I work. I work and work a little bit more, until there's no work left and all I can do is cry in bed.

I want to go back to her. I want to run out of this fucking apartment, book a flight or even walk all the freaking way back to that dump hole Lima to see her precious face. To kiss her. To hug her and make her feel loved. But I can't. I can't. Not yet.

* * *

Another minute passes. I sigh and frown deeply.

No sound, no movement, no memory. Not even a picture. This place is empty. Sure, there's furniture, but there's no _warmth_. Why should there be? I don't want it ... I don't feel anything around here. I just feel empty. This is a house, not a home.

My tired feet guide me out of bed over to the cabinet in the corner of the bedroom. Some of my fingers pull open the drawer, and suddenly it appears: one of her T-shirts. I does't really smell like her anymore, but my imagination still believes it does, and that's enough for me. The touch of the fabric sends shivers down my spine. I pull off my pajamas and put her shirt on. Then I walk over to the kitchen, where I have a glass of red wine. My reflection in the window is darkened by the lack of light around here. I see her shirt, my naked legs underneath it and the worrying movement of my inhalation - it's a little bit too fast.

And it happens: the stress at work today, the memories of a time that seems to be so long ago, the worry, the conflict, the missing, ... it takes control of me. I seem hypnotized.

It's somewhere around two a.m., but I call her. I put my fucking thumbs down on that fucking touchscreen of my fucking phone and I finally call her fucking number.

I just need to hear her voice. Just for a second. It's been two whole months and I'm finally realizing that this is something that's beyond myself.

One ring. Two rings. Even three. I forget to breathe.

A soft voice finally pulls my full attention after a cracking sound: "Hello?"

It stops my heart. She probably didn't even look at the name flashing up on her phone, but that's okay. Her voice is husky and rough and I know she's woken up from a deep sleep. I can't say anything. Chills are running through my veins, reminding me of her perfect sound. I almost forgot. I hate myself because I _almost forgot_. Moments pass, seconds pass. A painful, emotional minute passes. There's one heartbreaking tear that dares to break through my wall of courage.

"Santana." she sighs silently as if she notices.

It's not a question, it's just her, whispering the name she has said a million times before. The first time her voice reverberates it in months - I almost choke when it reaches my ear.

"I love you."

It's a breath. A silent whisper that holds a nervous smile. She needs to know. She's the only one that'll _ever really know_. I hold on to the kitchen tablet in front of me and silently cry. It takes a full second until she reacts.

"I love you, too, silly."

Like it's all so obvious. A deep swallow hurts our throats. I take three steps back and sit down eventually, on the back of my modern couch, to cry in my palms. God, if she only knew ... If only she fucking knew how much I fucking love her. The rest of the conversation is unspoken. There's tears and gasping and sniffing and exhalations, but no words - perfection. I hang up when the timer trikes 2:13 am.

"Enough, Santana. Enough." I tell myself.

* * *

I get up on my feet and take a few steady breaths. My body needs to relax. I need to get it together in order to get through the night. So I close my eyes and open my mouth, to let the sound of my voice echo through the emptiness that's called my home right now.

_"She's just a girl, and she's on fire  
Hotter than a fantasy, lonely like a highway  
She's living in a world, and it's on fire  
Feeling the catastrophe, but she knows she can fly away"_

My hand's placed on my chest, as I pull all the strength out of my core to make it sound amazing. I make my way over to the bathroom and lean my head against the mirror above the sink.

_"Oh, she got both feet on the ground  
And she's burning it down  
Oh, she got her head in the clouds  
And she's not backing down"_

I find the lost eyes that haven't sparkled since I left Lima. But then I suddenly remember why I'm here. I remember why it was a good call to come over here and save this freaking company. That bastard Alex will be fucking death before he'll ever find me giving up. This sex toy thing, which was _my_ _girlfriend's_ genius idea, will be the most freaking amazing thing that has ever happened to that family - not to mention to the sex lives of all the people that will buy the products. Because, I'd be damned if I just gave up on two months of being with the love of my life without getting any results out of it.

_"This girl is on fire  
This girl is on fire  
She's walking on fire  
This girl is on fire"_

The open cabinet door shows me her toothbrush that I packed the day I left. My hand slowly shuts the door, so the sight won't hurt my eyes that much anymore. Part of me tells me I need to let go for a while. Another part of my tells me that's the most stupid idea in the world. But I guess we both know that she wasn't completely happy anymore. There was a little, insignificantly small feeling that kept her from being whoever she needs to be: my crazy and thoughtless Brittany. So while she figures that out back there, in Lima, Ohio, I'll be here. And I'll kick ass. And I'll miss her every single hour that passes at an unbearable slow and agonizing pace, but it'll be worth it.

_"Looks like a girl, but she's a flame  
So bright, she can burn your eyes  
Better look the other way  
You can try but you'll never forget her name  
She's on top of the world  
Hottest of the hottest girls say"_

I pinch my eyes shut and block out the view of my reflection. Instead, I see Alex in front of me. That sneaky bastard.

_"Oh, we got our feet on the ground  
And we're burning it down  
Oh, got our head in the clouds  
And we're not coming down"_

My feet start making small movements across the floor. I'm dancing. For the first time in months I'm dancing. And it feels amazing. Relief and joy take over my body - such a strange feeling. I love to dance, always have. Quite frankly, I'm good at it as well. Not as good as Brittany, but that's because she's simply the best. I throw my hands up in the air and swirl and circle around the place, like it's the first time that I'm actually here.

_"This girl is on fire  
This girl is on fire  
She's walking on fire  
This girl is on fire"_

I catch my undiscovered smile in the reflection in the mirror and it's almost scaring me. I'm wearing nothing but some panties and her shirt. My hair hangs loosely down my shoulders and it dances along with my body to the sound of my voice.

_"Everybody stands, as she goes by  
Cause they can see the flame that's in her eyes  
Watch her when she's lighting up the night  
Nobody knows that she's a lonely girl  
And it's a lonely world  
But she gon' let it burn, baby, burn, baby"_

A big and enchanting laughter takes over my entire being. This is the first time I've felt good and pure and passionated in Atlanta. Her voice has made me realize that it's all worth it. She's so worth it. And no matter what happens, we're endgame.

_"This girl is on fire  
This girl is on fire  
She's walking on fire  
This girl is on fire_

_Oh, oh, oh..."_

One last, intense and liberating deep inhalation before I end up standing motionlessly in front of the biggest window in my apartment.

_She's just a girl, and she's on fire"_

I'm facing the breathtakingly beautiful skyline of the city and it's the first time I realize its wonder. It's dark outside, but the massive amounts of lights make it seem as if this city hardly ever sleeps.

I'm going to do this. I'm going to make this happen. And it will be marvelous.

Marvelous, I tell you.

And then, I'll get back to that dump hole Lima to get my girl back. And kick Alex' ass from here to Sunday.

* * *

Since my determination has got me concentrated on the reflection of my fierce face for about five dead silent minutes, I nearly jump ten inches off the ground when my phone suddenly starts buzzing. With one hand placed on my startled heart and a rushed respiration, I answer the phone to discover the Hobbit herself.

"Hello, my dear Santana. I'm sorry it's late, but I just wanted to inform you that I arrived in Atlanta for a quick visit. Alex sent me over here to inspect on the work you've been doing. Now, let me tell you: that's one historically themed airport filled with repelling and socially troubled people you have here. I can imagine that you are delighted and thrilled to finally see one of your old friends from Lima in this weird city that has absolutely no purpose in the importance that is America."

One thing with Rachel Berry: she has always talked too much. And she's always talked shit. What's wrong with a simple: "Hey Santana, guess what? I'm in town! Care for a drink?" But it's weird, because even though ninety percent of what she just said was both untrue and offensive, I guess I am glad to finally hear her irritating, high pitched voice again.

"Hi, Hobbit." I say numbly.

Part of me is still processing the fact that an Israeli Hobbit passed the airport security. They must at least have checked her luggage and done a strip search before they let her through.

The doorbell rings and I ask her to hold on for a second. Who the hell thinks it's an appropriate time for a visit at this hour? A dramatic version of some song orchestrates me in a never seen before haste all the way to my front door, just so the ringing would stop. When I open the door, I find _her_: Rachel freaking Berry, in Atlanta, in front of my door.

"What ... Why? ..."

I stutter with wonder, but decide to put on my tough act again: "Do you have any idea how late it is, Hobbit?"

She puts on an intolerable big smile, invites herself in by passing me through the small doorway and simultaneously rolls that hideous pink trolley suitcase in to my apartment.

"What are you doing?" I ask completely confused.

She seems to be checking the place out.

"I'm not too convinced about the cosiness in this place. Given, I expected a little bit more _drama_, maybe even some pieces of art to express the darker side of your personality. I always believed you were rather artistic. Guess I was wrong."

"Berry!?" I encourage her to talk.

It'd be a very wise decision. I'm very tired. This night has worn me out. I need sleep. Bed. Sleep. Simple as that.

"And I must say, surprised to not find a shrine dedicated to Brittany, the lonely girl that's wasting away back in that Lima place."

My blood's already boiling and she hasn't even been here for five minutes.

"Shut it, Albert Nobbs. Why are you here?"

Rachel's face lights up when she turns around again, her index finger gently sweeping the top of my closet for dust to be found.

"I see you have a cleaning lady. That's good. I like clean places - it's good for my voice."

I snap my fingers arrogantly to get her to focus again. It's too late to have her visiting me. It really is.

"Alex has send me here -"

"I know. You've told me over the phone."

The interruption doesn't seem to stop her from explaining the next part of her sentence: "But most of all, I wanted to personally invite you to my party."

I'm too tired to sound genuinely interested: "Party?"

All of a sudden, I realize I'm still partly naked. I'm wearing panties and Britt's shirt, but that's it. Rachel must be impressed with how good looking I am. I mean, she has chubby short legs and a torso no man in the world will ever want to touch. And then there's me.

"The company has organized some small gathering to congratulate me for the big deals I've managed to bring in. They seem to be genuinely surprised by all my achievements."

"Hmm."

She doesn't pick up on the lack of interest that takes over my voice. I guess she doesn't speak sarcasm as fluently as I do.

"Okay, Berry, one last time: what are you doing _here_? At night. You could've visited me in the morning, after a good night sleep in the hotel."

Rachel tilts her head and opens her eyes so big that it's starting to scare me.

"I didn't book a hotel. I'm staying here."

Hard laughter leaves my mouth, but when her expression stays as genuinely enthusiastic as it was before, I'm starting to panic immediately.

"What? No! Are you crazy? Why?"

I guess I'm not too subtle about the dissatisfaction. But is she kidding me? Rachel, staying over here? I'll kill her in less than twenty four hours. Maybe even twelve.

"Uhm - Because you have an apartment here. Alex said that if I wanted to come over here to invite you to my party personally, I should sleep at yours instead of booking a hotel."

I don't like the sound of that. And frankly, I'm starting to get a little bit jealous.

"_I _never got a fucking party after _my_ deal about the sex toys."

She shakes her head and suddenly her entire attitude softens up: "Santana, I get a party. You got an apartment in Atlanta."

Okay, that shuts me up for a while. I wish I could tell her the part where Alex kind of forced me to break up with the love of my life to come over here. But she can't know. Nobody can, until I prove that fucker wrong.

"So, now it's time to get some sleep. There was an obnoxious man sitting next to me on the plane that just kept on snoring and now my entire beauty sleep rhythm is ruined."

I smirk and lean against the doorway: "Can't fix what's already broken, Hobbit."

She ignores my comment, which brings me back to the days when Quinn encouraged her to keep putting aside all the shit I dumped on her head. I miss Quinn, I wish she was here as well.

"I guess the bedroom is that way? I know you are a fierce and proud lesbian now, Santana, but you should know that I am comfortable enough with gay people to share a bed." She says as she bends over to open up her suitcase. "I'm just going to take my pajamas out of my -"

"You're sleeping _here_, Hobbit. That, or I'll kill you in your sleep." I say in a very determined and threatening voice before she even gets to finish that sentence.

I point at the couch and she instantly shuts up to sit down on it with the face of a lectured puppy. I guess I can't blame the girl for trying. And I have been feeling kind of lonely in that kingsize bed for the last couple of month, but not the biggest disaster or even the freaking apocalypse itself would allow Rachel in my bed. She could poke out one of my eyes with her giant beak in the middle of the night. My body turns around to leave the room, and on my way, I hit the switch so all the lights in the living room go out. She's left sitting in the dark, while I shut the door behind me.

"Night, Hobbit."

* * *

** And? Looking forward for some Pezberry interaction?**


	20. DAY 313 - Karaoke bar

**Day Three Hundred and Thirteen.**

"What the hell are we doing at a freaking karaoke bar after midnight, Berry?"

She's genuinely insulted, so it seems: "Oh, my God, Santana. This is perfection. This is drama and fun and relaxation - all at once."

I sigh deeply and roll my eyes in a prominent way: "You seriously need a twinkle gay twinny to keep you company."

She's been here for two days. Two days and I'm sort of already planning the perfect murder. Yesterday, she watched the Les Misérables DVD three times in a row. I guess that was a normal Rachel Berry day. But today, the girl's come up with a plan to _cheer_ _me_ _up_ - which makes no sense at all, because I don't think she's ever seen me genuinely smile when it didn't involve Brittany's silly behavior. I'm always grumpy, that's just one of my two emotions: _grumpy_ and _bitchy_. But according to her, and her online buddy Quinn, _I haven't been myself lately_, so I deserve a night off.

"I don't do nights off." I told her.

It was the truth. I haven't spend a single day not working since I got here. The sooner I make progress, the sooner I can go back home, to Brittany. Right?

When my eyes search the place, all they find are loners and weirdos and there's not even one hot chick in this joint. I get how Berry fits in here.

I shake my head and frown completely unconvinced about this whole thing: "This is ridiculous. _Jacob_?"

My ex-boyfriend's standing right next to me at the bar, but he's not backing me up like I expected him to.

"It _could_ be fun."

I can't believe what he's saying. Jacob is convinced that _this_ could be fun? Is he fucking kidding me? He's in town for three days as well. Three days for business meetings and drama, then he'll be gone. Strangely, I felt incredibly relieved to see his precious face when I picked him up at the airport. It's been forever since we talked. His hair is nicely cut, he's wearing a classy shirt and some fit jeans. Basically every girl in this place is staring at him. It's nice to see the fun side of his personality again.

"So are _you_ going to sing, then?" I ask him teasingly.

"Shut up!" he warns me before slipping me another glass of tequila.

Everybody in the world knows he's a terrible singer. They all found out that time he dared to scream and rape the lyrics of _Don't Stop Believing_ in the shower and millions of windows in Lima broke instantly.

An hour has passed - and twelve agonizing Rachel Berry songs - and I decide to do it the Brittany way: I order an entire bottle of tequila and empty it half, together with three juicy lemons, in order to soften my attitude. You know, so I won't be tempted to smack anyone over the head. Especially not the overly enthusiastic Hobbit who just _can't stop singing_. Jacob seems to be having some fun, though. He's talking with some cute girls next to him at the bar, buying them drinks and having a good laugh. He warned me not to try and steal any of them. It makes me smile - even listening to the music is relaxing me right now. I guess I'm drunk enough to no longer care. My shoulders are dancing to the beat and Rachel's voice suddenly isn't the worst damn thing in the world anymore. And then it hits me: I'm having fun. Like, great, drunk, careless fun and I don't feel guilty about it. I'm not constantly wondering what she's doing, where she might be, if she's thinking of me. I'm just having a moment off, I guess.

All of a sudden, a hand grabs mine tightly and I'm caught by surprise. It's Rachel, with her giant beak and porcelain doll's outfit, who encourages me to get up on stage with her. Before I can even try to object, she's got me in the middle of the massive crowd that seems to enjoy this dump hole.

"Santana is going to sing with me!" she announces loudly.

I try to stop her, but she won't let go. The people around us applaud for me like I'm the first fierce thing they've seen in years. I probably am. In my hand there's the bottle of tequila that I somehow kept safely in my possession. _Great, nice first impression, Santana_. Rachel drags me up on the stage.

_Oh, fuck._

"No, no, no, no!" I quickly protest, but she's not listening.

Her hand's wrapped around mine so tightly that it's starting to hurt. Jacob's got his amused eyes fixated on me and applauds approvingly. He's heard me sing in the shower a couple of times when we were dating and always told me how beautiful my voice was. Then I got mad at him and called him a liar.

A quick room scan and I gasp for air. I'm on a freaking stage and there's a shitload of people in this place. I can't sing! I can't sing in front of all of them. I slightly panic, but I can't help but remembering how good it felt when I sang that song in the middle of my living room the other day. How liberating and great my body felt when it was over. But then again, that's nothing compared to the heart inside my chest that's about to burst out of my body.

"I'm not sure if I can do this, Berry." I stutter silently.

But she shuts me up by putting a microphone in my left hand and then smiles convincingly: "It's all about the attitude, Santana. And you've got lots of that!"

All my nerves are trembling while weird and tingling feelings shoot through my body. I'm nervous. Rachel's holding on to my hand tightly, like she's afraid I'll jump off the stage and run away. I probably will. A short, directing nod to the DJ is enough for the guy to start the music and Rachel's choice immediately draws my attention.

"Rihanna!" she shouts all overly excited.

I giggle, because her one tequila is definitely starting to kick in. Okay, I can live with a little bit Rihanna on this stage.

"You start!" I order her, still trying to calm my nerves.

She couldn't be more pleased with that request. My hands are cold and sweaty. In a desperate attempt to relax a bit more, I have another sip of the bottle.

_God, awful! _

The crowd loves my alcoholic approach to life and starts applauding even before one of us starts singing. Rachel walks away from me and puts her fists up in the air to dance to the awesome beat that this song has to bring. God, the girl can't dance. I smile enjoyingly. _We found love -_ I love that one_. _After a couple of hesitating seconds, I put the bottle down and wiggle my butt gently to the rhythm. Dancing is okay. I can dance in front of a crowd. I've done it a million times before. It's a lot easier than singing. My face surprisingly lights up and a big smile appears. This simply is a song you can't _not_ dance to.

Rachel opens her mouth and it's immediately spot on - so spot on that it's instantly annoying me again: _"Yellow diamonds in the light - now we're standing side by side."_

Sometimes she's too perfect. And I'll never admit it, but she has a wonderful voice. Too bad her personality is shit. She holds out her hand to me and after some childish giggling, I put my hand in hers.

_"As your shadow crosses mine _

_What it takes to come alive"_

My shoulders are moving to the sound of the music and I close my eyes for a second, so I can absorb the intensity of it.

_"It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny _

_But I've gotta let it go."_

I'm letting go. I feel ready. I feel completely ready to sing in front of all of this people. She's right. It's all about the attitude. And I'm the Queen Bee in this joint. So I open my mouth, even though my heart's pounding deep inside of my throat and I start to sing.

_"We found love in a hopeless place. We found love in a hopeless place."_

It's soft and husky at first- she's clearly overlapping my sound - but my voice is becoming stronger by each word that simultaneously crosses my lips. Deep breaths fill my lungs as I gasp for air in between the lyrics.

_"We found love in a hopeless place. We found love in a hopeless place."_

She signals me to hold on to the microphone a little firmer.

"Your turn!" she says as she's offering me the stage with her arms wide open. My trembling feet shift a little to the front and surprisingly, as I close my eyes in fear, all my worries are gone. _This is freaking karaoke, Santana. You can do this. Nobody in here can actually sing. And nobody cares._

_"Shine a light through an open door _

_Love and life I will divide _

_Turn away cause I need you more _

_Feel the heartbeat in my mind"_

My heart's pounding in my chest and it's the best feeling in the whole fucking world. I discover that I'm smiling. When I allow myself to see again, there's Jacob on his feet, holding his hands high up in the air. His smile is bigger than I've ever seen. I hear him shout my name across the room and it feels awesome to live this moment.

_"It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny."_ Rachel sings as she pats me on the ass for encouragement.

I laugh out loud, like a big, embarrassing and juicy laughter, and turn around to dance to the awesome beat.

_"But I've gotta let it go."_ We sing together before we enter the chorus once again.

_"We found love in a hopeless place _

_We found love in a hopeless place"_

We're both laughing and swaying and clapping our free hands against the mics like we're innocent kids without problems and worries.

_"We found love in a hopeless place _

_We found love in a hopeless place"_

Rachel approaches me again and puts her back against mine. We bend our knees and go up and down softly, enjoying the music a little bit too much.

_"Yellow diamonds in the light." _she finally almost whispers through the mic.

I follow her lead and put the device above my face, so my tilted head can access it to echo her last words: "_In the light."_

My most annoying friend flips me around and looks me straight in the eye. Her expression is filled with joy and an honest liberated feeling. It's like looking into a mirror.

"_Now we're standing side by side."_

The mic's become a second part of me, because it appears in front of my lips like it's nothing:_ "Oooooh."_

Rachel smiles and seems genuinely thrilled to see me this relaxed.

_"As your shadow -"_

But I interrupt her abruptly to take part in the singing:_ "Crosses mine ..."_

Of course she'll want to hit the high note that's coming, I know her too well. But my Lopez characteristic kicks in, due to the alcohol and the high of dancing and singing at once. So I close my eyes to forget about all the people that are around us, watching us, encouraging us and applauding for us and decide to go along with her diva-_ish_ behavior. They'll never hear my voice over hers, even if it sounds off and terrible. One long and deep breath to fill my lungs to all its capacity.

"_We found love_." I sing with all my power, emphasizing the _love_ part of the sentence.

But my startled body opens its eyes because there's no Rachel Berry sound. There's no one trying to steal my lyrics. It's me, filling up this atmosphere and big room with my voice. And it sounds amazing. Rachel's got her mouth wide open with surprise and when I look over to catch Jacob's reaction, his hands are in front of his face with wonder. I don't know how to describe this feeling, but it's out of the world. Rachel hugs me all out of the blue and normally, I'd push her off of me and smack her over the head as soon as she'd try to do that, but this time, I let her. My eyes are filling up with emotional and joyous tears. She just helped me face one of my biggest fears and I cannot ever repay her for this.

"_We found love in a hopeless place_." she continues in my embrace, while I take the second voice on me.

I basically just sing "_ooh_" a few times and repeat the last words of each of her sentences, but it still sounds amazing, if I can say that about myself. Jacob's made his way to the front of the stage and claps his hands enthusiastically. He's proud of me, I can tell. For the first time in months I see him dancing. Let me tell you: that's not always a pleasure, most of the times more like a joke. He reaches out to hold my hand.

"I did it. I sang, in front of all of these people." I tell him, startled by my own achievement.

He nods and exhales joy: "You did, Santana. You're amazing!"

Rachel slips her hand around my waist and wiggles her ass against mine, so I'll start dancing again. We do. And we continue the song like it's the best decision I've ever made since I came to live in this city.

* * *

It's five a.m. when a responsible Jacob drops off his drunk girls at my apartment. I'm already feeling hungover and I haven't stopped drinking for longer than thirty minutes yet. This is going to hurt in the morning. Rachel's getting dropped down on the couch, then Jacob supports me all the way to the bedroom. On my way there, I accidentally toss a painting off the wall, which makes me incredibly giggly.

"God, you're drunk. Since when do you drink like an immortal?" Jacob asks me.

I pat him gently on his head, like I'd pet a dog, and shush him silently.

"You're a good friend, Jacob. Have I ever told you what a good friend you are? Because I really think that -"

"I'm a good friend?" He completes my sentence with a half smile to ridicule me.

I nod with pressed together lips and smile through my drunk eyes. He has a calm and tender face. I've always liked that about him. And his eyes. God - his eyes are just like his cousin's.

"You look so much like Brittany." I whisper and immediately notice how the words put a knife through both of our hearts. He supports me as I lower myself on the bed. Her face appears in front of me. Her precious face that hurts so much.

I need to get rid of this feeling, so I make a thoughtless, indecent proposal: "Will you kiss me, please?"

He chuckles completely embarrassed and shakes his head as soon as he can: "No. I will not. You're gay, remember?"

I sigh, somehow relieved that the answer was negative, because I don't even _want_ to kiss him. I don't want to kiss guys anymore. I just want to feel _something - anything_. In this state, I probably would've kissed Rachel Berry herself to feel something. He pushes me down on the mattress and slowly takes off my shoes. He's such a patient man sometimes. Especially when it comes to me.

"Jacob?" My voice is sleepy and husky.

He hums, allowing me to continue my question.

"How do you get over someone you're so desperately in love with?"

By now, he has put me under the sheets. But all his movements stop immediately when my words completely sink in. He softly smiles and turns his head to me. I only see a small part of his darkened face in the unlit room. There's cynicism and genuine consideration to be found in his expression.

"I'll let you know when I find out."

My hair's a mess, I ended up fully clothed in bed and one of the most agonizing hangovers of my life is waiting for me. But that's not the worst part. The worst part is that Brittany isn't here to puke her guts out together with me in the morning. No, I have my ex-boyfriend, tucking me in at night.

"Santana."

I force one eye open and wait for a few seconds.

"What is it?"

I'm confused and frown dramatically. _Be a bit more specific, Jacob. I'm hammered._

"What is what?" I mumble.

"The thing with Brittany and you? I've never seen you ... I mean, with me -"

He pauses for a second.

"I've never seen you _like this_ with me."

He has caught my full attention now. I want to think about it for a second, but I'm not sure if there's a suiting answer to express the feeling she gives me. I smack my lips in order to prepare my mouth and picture her face. That's it. Seeing her precious face in my mind is enough to make me feel awesome and sad and happy and depressed - all at once.

"When I'm with Brittany - I ... I don't know. I drown in her. She's the better part of me. She's beautiful, she's innocent, she's everything that's good in this miserable, stinking world. When I'm with her, I'm helpless and free and ..."

A second passes and there's nothing else I can do to explain it.

He nods silently, as if it's an acceptable explanation: "You _drown_ in her."

Somehow, he understands what I'm saying. I close my eyes, completely worn out and tired and slowly wiggle my head with confirmation: "In Brittany."

* * *

**Liked it? Next chapter, she's heading back to Lima! **


	21. DAY 408 - Old, trashy Lima tweeting

**Updated twice in 2 days. I guess I'm on fire ;) **

* * *

**Day Four Hundred and Eight.**

The smell of dumpy, old, trashy Lima in Ohio. _Fuck, yeah, I'm back_. I've missed this miserable, stinking place. The last twenty seven weeks have been the worst of my life. I haven't slept or eaten properly - I rarely smiled. Because when I fall asleep, I dream of her. And when I eat, I taste her lips. And when I smile, I remember she's the reason why I used to smile. Atlanta has been a nice city to be in. The people were great during the six months that I've been there, the company and its new products are selling great partly because of all the work I've put into the branding and the development, but I hated every second when I wasn't working. I tried to call Brittany a million times, but I only did once - that night at my apartment. Funny how I couldn't remember a time when we weren't friends, but managed to destroy probably every connection we've ever had by shutting her out. It has been awful, being so distanced from everyone and everything. Rachel visited, Jacob visited ... Even Quinn came by. It was nice, but not enough.

And now I'm back. For this stupid Rachel freaking Berry party.

_Why did Quinn make me go to this?_ Rachel's, like, annoying and bossy and self-obsessed and not even close as being as hot as me. When she invited me in Atlanta, months ago, I never actually said I'd come. But now here I am. There's music and booze and joy all around the place, but not for me. I'm just hanging out at the bar, keeping a close connection with my fifth refill. The bitterness of the disgusting cocktail - the only one they have over here - sends shivers down my spine, but that's not the worst thing of my night. No, in front of me, there's the one and only Brittany S. Pierce - the _love_ of my life - dancing with another girl. They look close. Too fucking close for me to be comfortable. Quinn told me over the phone, three weeks ago, that Britt's "kind of seeing a girl". That's when my pathetic act hit rock bottom. The only reason I agreed to come back to town for this party was because I couldn't come up with a better excuse myself to see her again. My heart broke even more when I finally laid eyes on her perfection again, thirty minutes ago. I thought it'd make me feel better, that I'd be relieved to realize she isn't just part of my imagination - that my memories are in fact real. Except I'm not.

She looks breathtakingly stunning. And still so freaking adorable, even after all the heartbreak I've put her through. I'm still in love with her and the devastating, crushing amount of my feelings is an agonizing thing to realize. I wish it would stop. I wish my feelings would just freaking stop for a while. I thought I could come back here and see her with this girl ... and it'd be okay. You know, _time heals everything_, right? We've moved on and time has passed and ... Well, that's a big freaking, fucking lie. Seeing her with that girl felt like a slap in the face.

Luckily, Quinn's there to calm me down every time I'm about to set one of my clumsy plans to make her new girl trip into action.

"Just go over there." She advised me twenty five minutes ago. "She'll be so happy to finally see you again."

But I refused immediately: "I'd rather she didn't see me. It's too early. She looks happy. I can't ruin that."

After a seventh and an eighth drink, I decide that I can no longer stare at her like that. I'm ruining my entire night. Even worse, I'm ruining Quinn's night, who has stood loyally by my side ever since we arrived and hasn't had a chance to take part in the dancing and cheering at all. I think Rachel's even mad at her for being this boring. Quinn's such a good friend to me. If only I could kick that blonde girl's ass, that'd make me feel a lot better and we could just go on with the party. The chick's pretty, sure, but I'm _way_ prettier. I'm the hottest bitch in this place and Brittany's blind if she can't see that. Well, technically, she _hasn't_ seen me yet.

"Here it comes."

Quinn looks up to me and sips her drink once more before asking what I am talking about.

"The moment I stop caring for the rest of the night." I specify.

"Oh. Good!" she quietly says with little emotion.

I empty my glass and turn around. A guy walks up to me. He's kind of cute, but obviously too old for me. And _a guy_. Some parts of his hair are starting to grow grey. You know, the Patrick Dempsey look. The 'super hot but he could be my dad' kind of way. Maybe Quinn's interested ...

"So, how are you doing, pretty lady?"

I look up to him and display my disapproving attitude. Who is he, the next Joey from _Friends_? He doesn't pick up on the rejecting hint, though, and orders the waiter another drink for me. Great, now I get the chance to end up being even _more_ drunk. Quinn silently smirks next to me, but says nothing at all. She's enjoying this. As I finally find myself to soften up a little bit and tell myself to respectably approach the guy before I scare him away, his eyes wander to the deep cleavage of a woman passing by.

"You really seem to like women, don't you?" I ask him charmingly.

He nods, weirdly impressed by my eye for detail: "Yeah. I do."

That pretentious half smile makes me sick. I roll my eyes and sigh deeply. _Men_. I put my arm around a surprised Quinn, who was just minding her own business, enjoying a nice cocktail on her own, and fake a self-conscious smirk. Quinn doesn't reject. She just plays along.

"Cool, so do I." I proudly say with a big, confident smile covering my face.

I turn my head to Quinn and kiss her softly on the lips. Besides blinking heavily with surprise, Quinn doesn't stop me. The guy's gone by the time Rachel walks over to ask if we're having a good time. We actually are, I guess: I'm laughing. But I won't admit to it.

"Do I look like I'm having a good time, Hobbit?" I ask, totally annoyed.

She doesn't really react, simply puts her focus on Quinn. I guess she's letting me have this one, for being so goddamn sad. They talk a little about fashion and make up and by the end of the conversation, I'm so bored that I can't stand it anymore.

"Your dress is really pretty, Rachel." Quinn decides, putting a teasing hand on her left shoulder.

I frown. Is it me, or are they _totally_ acting weird?

"And you smell really good tonight."

I nearly choke in my drink_. Oh, my God. That's flirting! I recognize that behavior everywhere - I invented it! _I keep observing and find them acting stranger by the second.

"That's not my perfume you're smelling. That's my natural scent." Rachel says.

I'm not sure if she's joking. She probably isn't.

But I can't help but smirk: "Well, at least now we know where that stench is coming from."

Quinn subtly kicks my left calf and the stabbing pain shuts me up. Come on, that one was just too easy to let it go to waste. I decide to approach things differently.

"So, what's going on between the two of you? Are you, like, humping each other or what?" I ask relentlessly.

Their expressions surprises me. They look caught. Very, very caught. I can't progress this.

"What the fuck? Quinn!?"

She's looking at me, but can't answer immediately. It's true! They've ... Quinn and Rachel!? Oh, my freaking God. My stomach turns.

"I've only been gone for six months and you _all_ turned gay?"

But Rachel steps up and shakes her head: "No, no, no. It's just ... We were drunk one night and we were talking about all the super hot sex stories of you and Brittany and we ... well."

She looks over to her embarrassed friend.

"We tried it ourselves. Okay? We just ... had a little fun." Quinn adds shyly, trying to put the conversation to an end so all the people standing next to us won't pick up on the subject.

I'm completely startled. Too startled to even blink. I'm going to ignore this. I'm going to ignore the fact that my oldest friend in the history of my life has slept with the Hobbit herself. It's just too much to progress. A little bit disgusting, too. I mean, it's possible that I threw up in my mouth a second ago.

"Besides, you're the one to say. You're totally doing your assistant." Rachel adds defensively.

I frown and shake my head with wonder: "What? Marley!? Are you freaking kidding me? The girl's just ... my assistant."

But Quinn bursts into insane laughter: "Yeah, right! I've only spoken to her for about a minute since you both arrived in Lima and let me tell you: the girl's only got eyes for you. Like a cute, enchanted, loved up puppy."

But the teasing is starting to piss me off: "Look, Fabray, I am not seeing Marley. She's just a cute, innocent, hardworking girl. And she happens to be my assistant, so sucking up to me and all of my friends is a _very_ important part of her job."

Just as I'm about to look away and stick to my plan of enjoying myself a little bit more, Brittany - who's apparently ten feet away from me right now - gets hugged in a too familiar way by her _girlfriend_. And of course I'm here to see it happen. It's not just a hug, but a tender, warm, emotional, full-on embrace in the middle of the dance floor. It's clear my intoxicated ex-girlfriend enjoys it and the sight of that sneaky smile over that girl's shoulder that was once reserved for me, makes me lose control like never before. We're talking about a full-blown panic attack. That exact same moment, Brittany's eyes meet mine for the first time in six freaking months and I discover that she's so overwhelmed by her surprise that it makes her stop breathing. Her expression is extremely shocking to witness. She never expected me to be here. I see her letting go of the girl that's holding on to her tightly and her lips mouth my name in wonder, like she's not sure if she's just seen a ghost. It a painful thing to realize that she forgot about me for a second. Tears suddenly burst out of my eyes and I don't just walk away, no, I _run_ away. I cross Marley, the cute and innocent brunette, who was chatting with some colleagues at the lobby and she immediately picks up on the panicking face I'm carrying. She follows me, that much I'm aware, but I can't wait around for her. I quickly find the exit route to soak up some fresh air and collapse at the nearest thing I can sit on, a massive flower pot. I'm such a coward. I can't even pretend to be okay. I can't even walk over to her and say hi, even though that's the only thing I want to do.

"Are you alright?"

Brittany appears in front of me. My hasty breathing stops for a while as I stare at her, but my mouth refuses to say anything. I'm just completely caught off guard by her presence. It's unreal - Brittany standing in front of me is unreal. It's like the first day that I can see again, since I left. Like she's kept my heart while I was away and now I'm close enough to hear it beating again. And I'm hot and warm at the same time. She looks worried, yet she can't make herself come any closer. It's been six months since we've been this close to each other. Her crappy girlfriend's nowhere to be seen, though.

The shocking sounds coming out of my mouth are upsetting her. I nod - far from being convincing - and carefully wipe away my tears without harming the mascara on my lashes.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Marley shows up in front of us as well.

"Santana? Are you okay?"

The second person to ask me that question, but this time it's not coming from an angel's voice.

She sits down next to me and puts her arm around me. It's her gentle way of cheering me up. It's not helping at all. We have a really good understanding at work, actually. I do the talking, she absorbs everything there's to know. The girl's kind and sweet. And she's an excellent listener. I've told her about Brittany on many occasions. The moment I realized that all my friends and family were so many hours away from me, I decided that she was the only one I could confide in. And I did. Harsh and tough Santana Lopez opened up - because I had to. It was either her, or a therapist.

I refuse to cry in front of my ex, so I sniff up all the tears that are left inside of me and turn my head away from both of the girls. She has another fucking girlfriend, how can that ever be okay? How can I act rational and normal when she's ... when there's ...

"Go away, Brittany." Marley says in a harsh voice, simply to protect me.

They've never met, but she's smart enough to recognize her from the pictures on my laptop. My assistant's never the person to be rude or controlling and it surprises me completely. My ex-girlfriend doesn't move a muscle, though. She never really cares about anything anyone says, especially not this stranger. She does has a careful eye on the girl's arm around my shoulder. I loudly breathe in and out, trying to control the hyperventilation. Those ridiculous noises can't seem to go away. Nor can the people that gathered around me.

"Shut up. I'm talking to Santana." is Brittany's charming response. "San, do you need anything?"

Finally, she allows herself to walk over to me. She kneels down in front of me and I can't help but thinking that she's the prettiest girl I've ever seen. My heart skips a beat, my body freezes and I can't seem to stop staring. The caring and soft touch of her hands, cupping mine in my lap, sends my brain the pulse to relax again. I've missed this feeling so much. My breathing is getting a little bit better, but my eyes are just fixated on her long fingers, gently stroking the skin of my shaking palm. The panic attack is fading away, but the crying just continues and I'm the only person in this country that pretends as if it isn't happening.

I'm staring at her fingers. Those are mine. My fingers. They are meant to touch me, I know that. I can feel it this very instant.

I see it all in my head again: the hugging, the cheerful dancing, the silent whispers and out loud laughing I have witnessed for the last hour. It wasn't me who stood beside her. A long, deep breath fills my lungs with fresh air and it's the first one I had in the last few minutes. "No," I say in a soft, but convincing voice, "Marley's here. Go back inside, Brittany, I'm fine."

The way I just say it totally catches her off-guard. I'm denying her presence. I guess she never wanted me to find out that she was dating someone new. But how could she be this unthoughtful - I mean: we know all the same people. Of course the news would get back to me. She quickly gets up on her feet to look at a worried Marley - completely clueless. I squeeze the fingers that have taken over from Brittany and turn my head to face my caring assistant. Brittany just stands there and looks around, confused and lost. After a couple of seconds, her body turns away from me to find its way back to the entrance of the hotel. She checks on me to see if I am doing the same thing. I'm not. Eventually, she's gone.

"So." Marley hesitantly sighs, before showing her worried face. "That was pretty awkward. I'm sure she's going to fire me tomorrow."

I pinch my eyes to throw her my most vicious look, but can't help the smile that's taking over rather quickly.

"Do you want to leave, Santana? I can excuse you easily. Jetlag, headache, work, ..."

I nod and smile, because it sounds like a perfect idea. But then I realize: I can't do this to Rachel. This is her night. This is her celebration. My heartache can't ruin that. A deep sigh escapes my lungs. Goddamned, I must be close to my lowest point in life right now, since going back to a Rachel Berry party is one of the better options left today.

_Be brave, Santana. Fight back the tears and go back inside. Applause like Rachel Berry's biggest fucking fan when she accepts her honorable sign and don't look at Brittany anymore. It's not that hard - you can do it. I can do it!_

* * *

Marley understands my motives and escorts me back inside. I hold it together for a solid ten minutes, while Rachel's up on the stage and accepting some bling bling. That is until I stumble up on Brittany and Jacob. Marley went to get us some drinks, which leaves me here all alone, five feet away from the cousins - with some anonymous breathing space to disappear into the crowd. I can tell that my ex-boyfriend's been drinking, while my ex-girlfriend's just genuinely pissed off about what happened outside.

_Santana Lopez, the number one reference to fuck up your life._

"So, where's your little girlfriend?" Jacob asks mischievously. "Got tired of her and looking for a new victim?"

The familiarity of his voice allows me to hear it through the music. Brittany's not putting up with his intoxicated shit: "What the hell are you talking about, Jacob? Leave me alone, you're drunk."

The guy's not listening. I hate it when he's like that.

"What is she, really? Out and pride? I thought your girlfriends are usually the hiding in the closet type of girls?"

He's acting viciously. Alcohol has that effect on him. The light in her eyes changes. She's had enough, that much is clear. I hold my breath in anticipation.

"No, Jacob, my girlfriends are usually the ones with boyfriends that can't please them."

His self-confident smirk immediately shifts to a dark and raging expression and before anyone realizes what's going on, he moves his body so close against her that for the first time ever, I see a fearful look in her eyes. He's grabbed her upper arm and it scares me - I'm so afraid something bad is going to happen, that I actually drop my glass of champagne to the ground. We've all drawn attention - everyone's got their eyes on us. He's close to violently throwing her to the ground, when Susan appears and pushes him a couple of inches back. Brittany's arm gets released and it allows my heart to beat again. That was close, that was too close.

Brittany turns her head, finally picking up on the sound of breaking glass from a few seconds ago and sees how my panicking face just stares at the scene. There's no expression on her face, what so ever. Her eyes are blank, there's no light - no emotion.

"Go away, Jacob." Susan says strictly. "_Now_! Walk away now."

His attitude softens up again and it's like another personality kicks in. Shocked by what just happened, he puts yet another step backwards to stare at his shaking hands.

"I'm sorry, aunt Susan." he says in a garbled voice. "I didn't mean to ... I ... I'm sorry."

He swallows deeply and I see the adam's apple going up and down along his throat. Brittany and Jacob stare at each other for a while and it seems like they're not even mad at each other. They're just mad at the world. At me. When he turns his head to walk away from them, his eyes meet mine and I don't know how to react. I just stand here and pant nervously, because there's nothing I can do to fix this. This is not the guy I dated, but, sadly, I created this version of him. My infidelity and all the lies have turned him into this revengeful and angry person whenever we're both around. Sad to admit, but Alex' right. Alex' freaking right.

My legs are trembling and my knees feel weak. I need to go. I have to get away from here.

But for the second time tonight, Brittany's going after me. She grabs my hand as I'm halfway down the red carpet in the foyer and her touch makes me shiver immediately.

"Wait. Santana, _wait_!" she demands.

Her hand feels amazing. Powerful, dominant. I can't breathe because she's freaking _touching_ me. Our eyes meet as she rushes in front of me to hold me back with both of her arms stretched out. Baby blue - just like I remembered.

"You at least owe me five freaking seconds, don't you think?"

I lick my bottom lip and decide that rolling my eyes is an appropriate thing to do. I can't do this right now.

Such a fool I've been - such an idiot to believe that this trip would mean nothing, because, fuck, it means everything! It means seeing her again and smelling her scent ... It means missing her even harder, even though she's standing right next to me. I means she's seeing this other girl.

"Why are you here? Why didn't you tell me that you were coming back?"

I shake my head and laugh viciously: "Because I'm not back-back, Brittany. I'm just here for two weeks, to do Rachel a favor."

She uses those puppy eyes and it takes everything to not cave. She lets go of me.

"That's not the only reason, is it?"

I shake my head as tears are fighting to break through. That girl's got me all figured out.

"You know well enough that ... You must know that ..." My voice cracks.

I choke before I can find the appropriate words. She nods, because - yes - she knows. She knows very well _why_ I came back.

"Come to my place." she asks me bluntly. "Please? Just this night and tomorrow we can ..."

Fire in her eyes. I recognize it. She has no further explanation. But I can't. I've seen the girl. I can't undo that. Brittany's genuinely disappointed. In a desperate attempt, she holds on to my wrists and I finally _stare_ her in eyes.

"Then can I at least kiss you? After all this time, can I please - please just kiss you?"

She's _begging_. Her words make me go weak. I can't feel my knees anymore and my heart's pounding like _crazy_. I don't exactly say no. She's moving in to me. Her head's an inch away from mine - our lips are separated by a breath. They hoover over mine and the tension is so real that it seems to be an extension of her flesh, like her lips are actually touching mine through some magically connection. I can't breathe while she's so close to me. I can only think of how fucking amazing it'd be if she'd actually kiss me. But a second passes, and other agonizing one. And as the painful teasing continues, I see a twist in her behavior. I'm not rejecting, but I'm not playing along either - and that's just not enough. Our bodies part, even though she's still holding on to me. We almost kissed. We almost freaking kissed after six dreadful months. I close my eyes and pant heavily, like I just ran a marathon.

"You still love me, Santana. I can see it. I can see that you still do. You left me behind and it hurt. But you were wrong when you did and I'm going to prove you. I want you back and I'll _get_ you back. I promised Lord Tubbington."

She's saying it quietly, like it's a caring promise. A certainty. Her silliness would make me smile if I wasn't so captivated by the moment. She walks away and leaves me behind. In pain, in shock, in some strange sort of ecstasy. I need to call Marley.

* * *

An hour later, I allow myself to walk into my old bedroom at my parents' house, the ones that nearly hugged me to death at the airport. It's great to see them again, to be closer than Skype or texting can bring us. It's funny how you never realize how much you miss certain people until you're many miles apart. My phone beeps as I'm stripping down - ready for my beauty sleep - and it's not just a regular text message. No, it's a Twitter alert, and I'm always very curious about those. Brittany's name flashes up and that causes my heart to skip a beat. A dry throat, sweaty palms, moist eyes - yep, she still has the same effect on me. I open the notification. She tagged me. My entire face lights up with wonder when I read what she just posted.

"PM SantanaLopez , I wish we could just forget about everything that's happened and fuck each other's brain out - just one night xxx Britt."

An embarrassing feeling takes over, because, clearly, she made the wrong assumption about where to put this slightly intimate statement. My fingers run over the touchscreen and a smile plays along unawarely.

"Dear BrittBritt_Unicorn , putting 'PM' in front of a Tweet doesn't make it an actual PM. x San."

* * *

**Did you guys like it? I couldn't leave you guys waiting for another week before the next Brittana moment took place. Don't worry, all will be better from now on ... Trust me ;)**


	22. DAY 409 - Dancing studio

**As you guys may have noticed: I changed the names of the chapters, so they'll be more recognizable :D I hope you all like it ... Next: I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter. I've been writing and thinking about the next couple of chapters and suddenly I realized: I forgot to update ;) **

* * *

**DAY 409 - Dancing studio**

The headquarters. God, I've missed this stinking place as well. My old office is still there, patiently waiting for me to come back. No other person sitting behind my desk, no old piles of papers from before, nobody else in the room - nothing. Just room for me and my laptop. And my many, many files that Marley brought along. I guess she likes to keep me occupied. She knows how disturbing this little trip would be for me. She's a good girl. One of those loyal puppies. You can hit them with a newspaper or yell at them all day long, but they'll never stop loving you.

Around eleven a.m., she softly knocks on my door to catch my attention. I look up and take off my glasses.

"Santana. There's someone here to see you."

I frown, because I can't recall having an appointment this early. Marley slips into the office and pulls the door shut for a second as she starts whispering: "If she wants to fire me because of last night, please have my back on this."

My eyes widen. _Brittany's here_. She leaves as fast as she's stepped into the room and allows my ex-girlfriend to walk inside. A shy expression colors her face, while I nervously get up on my feet. We don't talk for a couple of minutes. She just stands there, looking all beautiful in a perfect jeans-tank top combination, while an unwanted phone call from Alex - of all people! - interrupts our encounter. I swear to God, he's GPS tracking us both. Innocent, cute Brittany wanders around the room, touching all the papers and stuff she's not allowed to, just to end up in front of the massive window we once had sex against. The memory's making me unfocussed and Alex picks up on it.

"I'm sorry, Alex. I need to go. I've got ... stuff."

I break off the call before he's given the chance to react. _Fucker_.

"You shouldn't tease Jacob that much. He's hurt." I immediately tell her.

She gets it and nods, still looking through the glass: "I'm sorry. I got jealous, seeing you there. It's stupid."

I frown and walk all the way up to her.

"Why would you get jealous?"

She looks down at her feet and shrugs: "I thought you and that Marley girl -"

I interrupt her immediately since I'm getting tired of this shit: "She's _not_ my girlfriend."

The relief makes her face light up.

"Well, that doesn't mean you're not fucking her." she dares to say.

"Brittany!" I utter completely shocked.

But it's cute: she _is_ jealous. This is completely new to me.

"Wait, did you ever get jealous when we were still together?" my lips mumble as they channel my curiosity.

An embarrassed smirk appears on the cute girl's face.

"Yeah, I did. But not like I was scared you would fuck somebody else or something ... I mean, I knew you'd never cheat on me. I knew you were mine."

She frowns, thinking back about that time, and looks up to me with painful eyes. Fragility to the core. It shakes me up completely.

"I'm still yours." I softly admit.

It's all she needed to know. She smacks her lips and stares at her feet.

"You know ... you shouldn't pick a spoon just because it fits the cutlery when you really want a fork."

My body can't even react to that. This brings me back to the time she had her wonderful philosophical epiphany about being an hour.

"What the … ?"

But someone interrupts my startled response by knocking on the door firmly. It's some guy I've never seen before, asking for directions.

"I'm sorry." the gentle dude in a tight shirt starts. "I'm looking for the CEO's office. It's supposed to be here, I've been told."

Brittany steps in before I get the chance to explain that it's in fact three floors higher.

"Well, sir, you should actually just walk down this hall, then take the first one to the left, than the second one to the right. I assume you just follow that hallway for about a ... what is it - a hundred feet? And then there's a massive, brown door on your right."

The guy's expecting the magical words: "That's the CEO's office?"

"Well - no, not exactly." she answers him with her hands charmingly put together. "But it'll get you to the stairs. That's a much healthier way to get to the right floor than taking the elevator."

I roll my eyes with unimpressed amusement and take over from her. I pull her back, which causes her to sway around me - one arm clutching on to my stomach. We both giggle and it feels like the old days again. The guy, who luckily can appreciate her weird kind of humor, thanks us for both versions of the truth and leaves the office a second later.

"So about last night." Brittany recalls, while continuing her entire turn around my body.

She's still holding on to me firmly. My surprised eyes look up to her in terror. I don't want to talk about what happened. I really don't.

"You almost let me kiss you last night." she informs me.

_Like I didn't realize that! _I start to blush immediately, but decide to act like it's not happening. I'm enchanted by her touch. By the way she's flirtatiously stroking my shirt with her thumb.

"Let me guess … You want to play this fascinating game called 'last night never happened?" she asks after realizing I won't respond to it.

I nod and smile softly, admitting how it's actually kept me up all night: "Yes. For now. Until I figure this out."

She frowns: "What?"

"This thing about the spoon and the fork." I say with a confident face as I lean into her.

I get what she was talking about. It's about being with the person you love, not the one that seems right for you. I guess she assumes that I've been seeing other people. Like Marley.

A relieved smile is meant for me to see: "Okay."

Her body approaches mine and it's making me feel warm and fuzzy. She's not even that close to me yet.

"You should stop by at my place later tonight. I'll be there. At the dancing studio."

I chuckle: "The _what_?"

Some of my fingers run through the front part of her hair to push it back. It's like a thoughtless, old habit. She blushes.

"Gramps build me a dancing studio. I found what I really love, you know. Dancing. I enter some competitions every now and then. Mike's helping me a lot."

She looks proud to tell me about it. The joy's sneaking out of her eyes.

"I bet you win them all." I softly utter.

My eyes focus on her lips. They look so delicious. But it seems like she's taking my compliment a little bit too close to heart: "Not all of them."

* * *

It's around ten when I walk across the premises for the first time in months. This place hasn't changed. Well, at least not the buildings that were already there. Behind Brittany's house, I spy some sort of new wing. That must be the famous dance studio she was talking about. My body brings me closer to the door of that extra building. But just as my clammy hands are about to grab the doorknob, someone scares me by storming outside. I recognize her immediately and growl internally. It's that girl. The girl Brittany was dancing with at the party. My attitude shifts immediately, from _nervous_ to _bitchy_.

_Oh, I'm back_.

She's pretty, I've noticed before. She has blonde, curly hairs and a banging body. The girl, on the other hand, doesn't seem all that impressed about my presence.

"Can I help you?" she asks.

It looks like she's leaving. She has her jacket on and is holding on to a backpack.

"So, I guess you're supposed to be Brittany's latest hook-up?" I counter her question with my own.

It startles her: "Excuse me?"

I circle around the girl slowly and intriguingly - my arms defensively crossed.

"Brittany's your booty call, isn't she?"

Lopez style. She looks impressed - and uncomfortable. She has every right to be.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to know who you are?" she asks irritated.

My head stirs slightly, so my black, shining hairs can fall perfectly over my shoulder again. Then I nod, with vicious fierceness in my eyes.

"I'm Santana." I present myself proudly.

No last name. Her face turns pale, like she's facing a ghost.

"You're the girl from the pictures in her drawer."

I'm confused and it blows up my entire cover: "Excuse me?"

"She has pictures of you. She keeps them hidden in her drawer. She told me I can't open it."

But that makes no sense at all: "Then how do you know she's keeping them there?"

She's holding the backpack in front of her body now, for protection: "I once had a peak while she was in the shower. I didn't want to compete against a ghost. I needed to put a face on it."

"Too bad it's such a perfect face, right?"

I know the girl can't help it, but I can't stand her. I can't stand anyone around Brittany, even though the break up was my initiative. So my most appropriate reaction is to act like a bitch.

"So what's the deal, you're planning to put up a fight with me? You want to fight to get her back?" she asks curiously - a lot braver than a second before.

I interrupt her rather quickly: "Make no mistake, she's mine."

She nods and holds one hand in front of her to stop me: "Don't worry, I was going to say ... 'don't bother'. There's no fight when it comes to Brittany. One snap of your fingers and she comes running back to you."

She's not as sad about that as she should be. This girl's got a weird look on reality. Seriously, a part of me is convinced that she's actually okay with that truth.

"She's inside."

It's the last thing she says before her fragile body leaves me behind. I frown, not entirely sure what to make of this situation, and open the door that'll lead me to Brittany.

With eyes wide open and an impressed feeling, I walk around the small hallway that lasts for a solid thirty feet. This place is way too big to be a private dancing studio. Only rich people would ... Oh, wait. She _is_ rich.

It's completely dark in this area and as I finally reach a soundproof door that has a sign saying 'studio', some familiar dance beat enchants my ears. _Dancing on my own_. I've listened to that song a million times while I was in Boston. Don't really know why, though. It's just beautifully depressing. And heartbroken people find it amusing to listen to depressing songs, so they'll feel even more heartbroken. I slowly open the door. Flashing lights blind me on my way in, until I finally figure out how this room is divided. I'm standing on some tribune, in front of the podium where she's dancing with some guy. She's wearing sweat pants and a tight, pink shirt. A couple of blinks and I recognize the dude: it's that Mike person, who used to dance with her in that group.

Brittany doesn't realize I entered the room. She's shaking her shoulders to the loud, empowering beat, while rhythmically walking away from a muscled and shirtless Mike. _Disgusting_. I did't came all the way back to Lima to see some half-naked dudes. The music's loud, so calling out her name to draw attention won't do. And the stage lights prevent her from seeing me. I decide to sit down on one of the chairs next to me, so I can watch whatever dance routing she's been practicing with him. A strategically organized movement makes her stop abruptly and she opens her mouth as soon as the lyrics start.

_"Somebody said you got a new friend  
Does she love you better than I can?"_

Her head's softly wiggling to the sound of the music. My jaw drops. I've never heard her sing before. Not in the shower, not in the car, not in her sleep. She sings like an angel. She dances _and_ sings like an angel. Her voice's way louder than Robyn's - the original singer. She starts moving again, her entire body this time, and she turns around to dance towards Mike. He's ready for her, looking all serious and concentrated. She puts her right arm around his neck and allows herself to drop down in his strong embrace.

_"It's a big black sky over my town  
I know where you at, I bet she's around"_

He picks her up and makes a solid pirouette that's slightly impressing. Brittany's hanging on to him, curled up like a second part of him. A second later, her feet touch the ground again and she pushes him away with a certain attitude.  
_"Yeah, I know it's stupid, but I just gotta see it for myself."_

She runs up to the other part of the stage and jumps up high in the air, only to land in a beautiful, subsequent roll across the shining floor. She's like a gymnast, using her body to make all the people that look at her swoon. Her face looks troubled, and sweaty, and breathtakingly beautiful. There's so many lights facing the two of them that she squeezes her eyes to see through all of it. She's on her knees now, with a hand dramatically held in front of her forehead to extent her view on Mike at the other side of the stage.

_"I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh  
I'm right over here, why can't you see me? Oh."_

The blond gets up on her feet and puts both arms stretched out in the air as she's throwing her legs wildly around her. In theory, she's performing some dazzling no handed cartwheels, but it's just pure magic to me. She's flying. I swear to God she's flying across this stage.  
_"I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the girl you're taking home, ooh  
I keep dancing on my own."  
_Mike's the one to interrupt her magic by appearing in front of her, grabbing her wrists. I guess this is what people call modern dancing. Except for the part where Brittany's still singing through all of her movements and captivating me with every new word that leaves her mouth.

_"I'm just gonna dance all night  
I'm all messed up, I'm so outta line"_

She's trying to escape and she's angry, but he's holding on to her tightly. Steps back and he's following her like they've practiced this routine just enough to make it look like a natural, fluent movement.

"_Stilettos and broken bottles  
I'm spinning around in circles"_

He's lost his grip now and she takes full use of the massive stage again. The music is routing her to dance to her fullest - and she's listening to its request.

_"I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh  
I'm right over here, why can't you see me? Oh  
I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the girl you're taking home, ooh  
I keep dancing on my own"_

My eyes stare as she keeps on amazing me with every little twist of her body. Her hair is dancing along, it swirls through the air like leafs in the spring. And Mike, oh, Mike's just wind to me. The music's softening. The most fragile part of the song's coming up. She steps up all the way to the edge of the stage and all I can do is stare. Her body freezes as she reaches out to the open air, not realizing that I'm actually here, literally sitting in front of her. The lights are blinding her.

_"So far away but still so near  
The lights go on, the music dies"_

She holds on to her chest and lowers her head in pain. The angry expression on her face transforms to a sad one - it's shocking, so is the beauty of her voice.

_"But you don't see me standing here  
I just came to say goodbye"_

A drop is rolling down her cheek and even though the intensity of this routine's got her sweating like crazy, I'm convinced that it's a tear.

This is about me. If it wasn't clear before, than it is now. This song, this dance, this studio, it's her way of escaping me. My jaw drops as that slowly sinks in. Her feet quickly bring her back to the centre of the stage, where Mike waits to pick her up off the ground and lift her high in the air. She stretches her arms all the way up and tilts her head all the way back. Her muscled, sexy body slides down his embrace until she's face to face with him and this leads them to the part where they finish the rest of the song as a synchronized duo. Every move is being copied perfectly by the other one and not one of them makes a single mistake.

_"I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh  
I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the girl you're taking home, ooh  
I keep dancing on my own"_

They end up standing close to each other. He's got his left arm wrapped around her back in a caring way, while both of her hands are rejecting his presence by pushing herself away from his chest.

* * *

By the time they're done, I've found my way to the switches that will probably allow me to make her see me at last. Some seem to work the way I want them to, some don't, but the point is that she's surprised by the sudden change in lighting. She shades her eyes again and searches the room for someone's presence.

"Hanna?" she calls out.

But the blurry sight finally reveals me in the corner, right next to the stage she's on, and I can tell she's immediately sorry to have said that last thing.

"So that's her name? Hanna? Mediocre, Britt-Britt."

I say it with a lot of fierceness and accompanied tut-tutting, so my hurting emotions won't show.

"How long have you been here?" she asks, ignoring the question.

It looks like she's embarrassed enough to wonder if I saw her routine. I climb the stage, high heels on and arms crossed, and circle around her exhausted, startled body to end up on her right side. She's lowered her arm now and all she can do is stare at me. Mike's been extremely quiet up until now, but gathers the courage to say something that will cut through the tension like a knife: "That's my cue. Bye."

He waves the faintest of waves at Brittany and flies the scene. She doesn't react.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Santana." she says while panting.

Her eyes are checking me out shamelessly. They travel from my black boots, over my skintight green dress, to the hairs that are draping my shoulders. Her comment makes me smile enough to forget about the girl she's seeing. She's always been flirty after working out intensely.

"I'm glad you like it. You kind of looked blind on top of this stage a few moments ago, though."

Now she's absolutely sure that I've seen the entire thing. Some shy seconds pass, until she raises her head again and shrugs: "Well, happily, I'm _not_ blind, because my eyeballs really like seeing you."

I take a few, slow steps towards her and stare at her fiddling fingers.

"I really like seeing you dance. And you have an amazing voice."

She's charmed by what I just said and chuckles: "Thanks, Santana. That song was ... that was about you."

I nod and remain silent for a while.

"That thing you said, yesterday - how I still love you."

She waits patiently as I search for words. We're a couple of inches apart.

"How are you so sure about that? How can you ..."

She shrugs once she notices that I won't finish that sentence: "Because _I_ still love _you_. _Even though_ you didn't call. Or write. Or visit. I guess I just ... I'm mad at you or something. Maybe I've lost my faith in you."

Her tone sounds hurt. But I haven't been around her enough yet to forget about the weak creature she always turned me into before and a certain part of my bitchiness dares to object: "You didn't exactly call me either, did you?"

Her laugh is scornful as she's looking directly at me: "I'm not the one that left, was I? I didn't ask for this unofficial break up. Besides, what does that even mean? It's not even a thing."

She has a point. She has perfectly good point, certainly considering she has absolutely no clue what's going on exactly. I wish I could kill Alex in his sleep. All he's done up until now is haunt me in Atlanta, calling me every five seconds, drilling me about the numbers and meetings and new products. Every time I asked him to take the weekend off and return to Lima for a quick family and friends visit, he said no._ There was still too much work to be done._ And finally, after six months of working my ass off, he granted me this two weeks to spend back at home. But coming back isn't the warm welcome I expected. It's hard and weird. And Brittany's all distant and hurt. She has every right to be, I see that now. I did this.

"What do we do now?" I'm asking her for some guidance, like I once did.

She shrugs and takes the final step that'll bring us back together. Our fingers entwine and I need to close my eyes to captivate that feeling.

"We start again." she whispers.

"Like, fall in love again?" I ask confused, still processing all the powerful tingling pulses that rush through my veins.

When I open my eyes again, I see her shaking her head softly.

"We still got that part. I don't think we'll ever lose that part."

Her explanation is sweet. So sweet that tears are already trying to break through.

"We just ... we should start with being friends again. And we'll figure out the rest later."

I nod, softly sniffing up the tears that have found their way to my nose. My eyes escape her intoxicating stare by lowering my head.

"Okay?"

Her knees are bend, so she's leveling me now. She's forcing me to face my feelings - to face her. This girl makes it all okay. She makes all the pain go away. Her fingers are gently stroking the skin of my hands. It's giving me goosebumps. Bambi eyes. Deer eyes. Baby blue eyes.

"Okay." I whisper.

She leans in to me and lets go of my hands. I expect her to kiss me. My breathing stops with anticipation and I'm ready. I'm absolutely ready for her to kiss me, but she doesn't. She wraps her arms around my neck and buries her head deep down in my neck. I feel the warmth of her breath caressing my skin. She's so close to me that we almost make one whole. This moment feels wonderful. This is my welcome home.

* * *

**So ? What did you guys think?**

**A little note: I received a comment from a stranger last week that totally moved me. It was so warm and empowering and supportive - it immediately made me reconsider the story development and how the characters interact ... And that's what a story teller need. We need that support and motivation to keep us going. So to everyone that's ever commented: I love you all and thanks a million!**


	23. DAY 415 - A Brittany idea

**DAY 415 - A Brittany idea**

There's nothing where she used to lie. It confuses me when a bad dream wakes me up in the middle of the night and my dreamy eyes look over to find absolutely nothing next to me. It scares me how long I am capable of lying in my old bed, softly sobbing at the sight of the empty pillow that was hers. In my mind, I can see her lying there. I know exactly how she would move, if she'd be there. She'd make that weird little noise she does whenever a dreamy spastic movement would take over her body. And then, when the best moment of the early morning would take place and she'd force her red, disturbed eyes to open, she'd look over to me and smile the sweetest smile.

"Santana?"

My attention gets drawn back to reality when Susan's voice calls out my name. I'm at the office, shamelessly staring at a picture of her daughter and me that's in my hand. It was hidden in my drawer, something I left behind when I moved to Atlanta. Now it's here to punch me in the face. I turn around and witness the gentle face of the woman, while the picture's being tucked away behind my back. She's been nothing but good to me since the day I met her. Even when Britts and I broke up, she understood. Not the entire truth, but the part that I allowed her to know. She has that same enchanting kindness like her daughter.

"Are you coming to the party tonight? I bet Brittany will be really excited to see you there."

Of course she's asking me that.

Gramps is in remission. And honestly, it's the best news I've heard in a while. So the guy's having a little, decadent dinner, with family and close friends - to celebrate. But I immediately do the math: it means Jacob will be there, right next to Brittany. And Alex' bad mood will make the joy flee out of the room. And that's just the whole fucking problem, isn't it? Jacob plus Brittany equals no Santana.

"I - uhm - I'm not sure if that's a good idea, Susan. Brittany and I are sort of ..."

I'm not sure how to camouflage my true reasons. I'm suspicious about her level of unawareness when it comes to that.

"... keeping some distance in order to get closer again. Me being there might be a little bit too much, too soon."

She frowns and I see where her daughter gets the cuteness from: "How is being apart going to bring you closer to each other?"

I shrug, because I can't tell for the love of God.

"It's a Brittany idea." I tell her. "Start again and all."

Susan smirks and nods willingly: "In that case ..."

But the woman's managed to walk around me in a subtle circle and she suddenly yanks the picture that I kept pressed against my back out of my left hand. I'm surprised, but keep quiet anyway. She studies the two faces that are shown - our smiles, our happiness, our uncomplicated life back then. _Oh, I know, Susan. I've looked at it for hours today. _

"The two of you were always so nauseating cute." she suddenly informs me with a nostalgic smile taking over her face. "I remember how she walked into the living room one day. Bruce and I were catching up with work. She looked so scared and lost - and when Bruce asked her what was wrong, she had this terrified look in her eyes. I swear to God she almost started to cry."

I'm confused and I guess she notices. She holds out the picture to me and my long, caramel fingers accept the gift.

"She told me she fell in love with her very best friend. Bruce and I had no idea how to react, really. The girl was dead cute. That same night, she talked to her grandfather. He encouraged her to take a chance. Life's too short, he said. And boys are just too stupid."

She chuckles about the last part. I can't stand the verbal memories, so I turn my head away from her to hide the photo back in my drawer. It's better this way - the sight won't disturb me any longer.

"You know ... we _can_ move the department over here, if you want." she says softly.

I frown: "What does that mean?"

She gets a bit closer and smiles motherly: "You can come back. I mean, Alex told me he needed you there to get things started. But the way I see it, it's running smoothly now and ... It's _just_ another office. We can actually use some expenses right now - a move, a new building, new offices. I could talk to him. You know."

The thing is:_ I_ know, but she doesn't have a clue.

"Why would I want to move back?" I ask, like I would have to actually think about that.

I am aware that I have nothing to say about that. Alex will never allow it - but it's a nice dream.

She walks over to me and thinks before she speaks: "Because you are very important to my daughter."

The way she says it, moves me. I drop my eyes and frown deeply.

"We haven't really been connected lately." I admit.

But she's not buying that excuse: "That doesn't matter. Brittany missed you terribly. She still does. So if the two of you are somehow disconnected at the moment - fix it."

We both stop talking for a while. This woman is the reason why my girl is her perfect self. She's the woman that gave birth to the one I'll marry one day.

"Thanks, Susan. I'll think about it."

But it's a lie. I won't. Alex won't let me.

* * *

Talking about that douchebag, he ordered me to pick up a fucking envelope at the mansion tonight. He told me I _had_ to do it, or I'd be sorry the next day. That bastard, he's deliberately send me over here to confront me with the dinner party. _And_ the fact that I'm not wanted. I come over late enough to miss the family gathering in the foyer before they move on to the dinner room. I'm not sure I can confront Gramps and Grams yet. Those poor people have gone through so much lately. Well, I guess that old bitch Grams can take some shit, but her husband's just too much of a sweetheart. Seeing his gentleness, behind that hard business face, would make me crack. I'd be tempted to confess the truth. He's not strong enough yet. And I haven't figured out a way to kill Alex subtly yet.

After sneaking out of Alex' office as quietly as I can, I make my cautious way through the big hallway that'll get me to the front door. A butler already opened it for me. But heavy steps on their way inside disturb my nearly perfect plan, and the clicking of high heels immediately sounds familiar. I freeze. There she is, standing right in front of me: Brittany. I swallow deeply and instantly get nervous as she storms through the front door. She's wearing a yellow dress and pink little shoes. Oh, God, she looks pretty.

"Santana!" she shouts as soon as she recognizes me.

I see redness in her eyes, which means she's been crying. Her fragile body stops in front of mine and I have no idea how to react. She looks so

good, even though she's obviously feeling miserable.

"Brittany, what's wrong? Why are you upset?" I ask worried.

Her sniffing's interrupting her whole of words.

"I'm late." she finally tells me. "Gramps' giving this party - to celebrate that he's in remission and I'm late. And ..."

Nodding's the only thing I can come up with for a while.

"Don't worry, Britt-Britt. It's okay. Here."

I hold out my hand to her and she suddenly starts breathing again, as if she now realizes she forgot so for a minute.

"I'll take you there."

Brittany does not put her hand in mine, though. She practically dives into an embrace and starts crying uncontrollably. I don't know if this is about Gramps, or us as well, but I do know that it feels wonderful to be the one to console her. I feel bitter tears reaching the skin of my neck, where her head's put down for comfort. My fingers start caressing her hair instinctively. I've missed this.

A couple of tender seconds pass and it seems like she's ready to let go and get it together again. As she steps away from me, some of her fingers wipe away the final tears that dare to show. She's never been this fragile and open while we were dating. Did I really break her?

"Are you okay?"

She nods directly after hearing the words without even looking up to me. Then, her left hand goes searching for my right. I feel the warmth of her body coming near me when her chest presses up against mine tightly. We're entwined. We're entwined and it feels magical. She's not smiling, she's not crying, she's not doing anything. Her lips are inches away from mine and that redness in her eyes is cutting my heart in two. Then she does the thing I was hoping for. She leans into me and softly puts a tender kiss on my lips. It's been six months since I experienced this feeling - this utter moment of joy. She tastes like candy. My knees go weak and I'm about to faint, but that's okay, because this is like coming home. Her skin on mine is the way God intended us to end up. I gasp for air when she gently lets go of my mouth. Funny how she's the troubled one, and she ended up comforting me.

"Let's go, Miss Lopez." she whispers against my mouth.

I pant, still processing her touch, and nod. I'll go with her. No matter what Alex might say, I'll go with her.

* * *

When I enter the room, twenty people immediately turn their heads to stare at us. Curiousness is the top thing here. A quick search leads me to a surprised Jacob and his irritated father standing right next to him. _Crap_. I'm not sure if this is a good idea - it probably isn't, but no matter the consequences, Brittany needs me here. That's a good enough reason. Gramps walks over to me and puts his arms around me welcomingly. I've missed this old bastard. He's the toughest of them all, you know.

"Santana! The wonder child that has saved my company. How are you?"

_Great. That'll calm Alex down ..._ I smile shyly and put on my biggest, less nervous smile: "I'm good, Sir. How are you?"

"Sir? You used to call me Gramps, remember?" he whispers.

_Yeah, that was before I dumped both you grandson and your granddaughter, though._

Brittany's still next to me and I discover - a little bit too late - that our hands are still entwined. Subtly, I let go. She's not offended, so it seems. The goddess excuses herself and walks away from me to meet some people that are around. I spy Bruce in the corner and we wave at each other. It's been a while since I've seen him.

"You should tell me all about Atlanta. I'm planning on visiting the new offices next month, you know? We could have coffee then." Gramps tells me to keep me occupied.

I'm enchanted by his warm welcome, so I agree.

"That sounds like a perfect plan to me."

But I'm not actually looking at him. I discover that I can't let her go out of my sight. After a couple of seconds, Alex' vicious face crosses mine. He's not happy about this, I can tell. But I fake a smile and decide to ignore his hideous presence. Let's just focus on the party animal in here.

The old business man in front of me looks skinny and exhausted, but healthy at last. The last time I saw him, he was a walking corps that hadn't realized he was dead yet. But he's better now. I could be courageous and tell him the truth about his son right this second. I could confess all the _fuckery_ he's put me through - how Alex practically blackmailed me to leave Brittany and fly all the way to Atlanta. But something's stopping me. Not Alex' fierce eyes, targeting me. Not Jacob's slightly unimpressed face after seeing Brittany and me holding hands again after all that time. And definitely not that girl Hanna that's suddenly caught my attention in the back part of the room. Brittany's now walking over to her and they hug it out for a second. I feel jealousy rising inside of me like a monster that's about to burst out of my skin. Like some sort of Latina Hulk. I can tell she's confessing her little sad moment from a minute ago. And pretty Hanna makes it all better by embracing her once again.

You want to know the truth? Telling Gramps right now would solve nothing. It wouldn't fix a damn thing. It wouldn't bring Brittany back to me. She might still love me, but she doesn't trust me anymore. Not after I left. Not after I haven't called her for six months. She's right, you know? We're not friends anymore. Not like we used to be, really. First of all, I lied to her when I left. Secondly, I was a coward to not keep in touch. Of course she doesn't trust me. I need to prove to her that I'm a good enough person. That I'm worth having her. It's going to take a while - conversations about our feelings and why I think she's perfect for me and we'll get to that point. I promise myself this exact instant.

* * *

She suddenly sneaks into my bedroom, out of nowhere. I didn't even hear her entering the house. She hasn't done this in ages. Gentle, sweet Brittany needs to check up on me, because she's aware that I feel miserable about tonight. Every time her perfect body walks into the same room I'm in, I hope she'll tell me that she wants to try again. But she never does. She wants to wait. She just wants to make sure that I'm alright, but I never am. I don't want to wait anymore. Sadly, that's not up to me.

My red eyes move over to her precious face and I can see how upset her heart is about all of my desperation. I don't get why this needs to be this hard. I thought love was the easy part.

"Stop following me around." I silently whisper.

"You're crying." she replies, like that's a good enough excuse.

She's innocent like a puppy. Her hair's in a tight ponytail and her eyes are soft. I look away from her and burry my face in the pillow: "You're exhausting."

There's a little crack in my voice. She doesn't like it when I'm crying. But I can't be mad at her over this decision. I know exactly who this girl is. She's not capable of hurting anyone on purpose. Somewhere in her vague and complicated mind, this is the right thing to do. And I know that - but I just can't accept that all the time - I'm not patient enough. One minute I'm all in for the plan, the next I hate it. Just like before, I want it all - at once. Too much, too soon.

"Well, I guess now you've proven that you're not blind yet. Please, leave." I sigh, too tired to keep my eyes open for a solid second.

I'm being a sarcastic bitch. I can't help it, not even after realizing I'm talking to Brittany S. Pierce herself. She's the only person I've always been nice to. But my heart - my numb and emotionless heart that she just _had_ to soften up - is in overdrive and this is the only way I know to express my feelings. After seeing her with Hanna tonight, I made myself leave as soon as I saw the opportunity. Twelve minutes of witnessing nauseous, girly fun before I got out. And Brittany was the one to catch my troubled look when I walked out that door.

Instead of responding, she walks over to my bed, where she sits down next to my crawled up body and sighs the most weary sigh.

"I can't leave when you're crying, Santana."

I'm too tired. It's been a terrible day at work - with Alex and all. Seeing her with Hanna just made it worse. Knowing that I can't kiss her and hug her and beg her to make everything feel better is a terrible feeling. I just want to close my eyes again and fall asleep. I want her to walk out and let me cry for a whole night, because I need it. I need her to not be around me for a whole freaking night. Because the more I see of her today, the more tears develop behind my eyes. And if she allows me those couple hours of pathetic desperation, it'll be better in the morning.

But I'm a complete fucking coward, because at the same time, I don't want her to go anywhere. Every second that I can't be with her feels like a missed opportunity.

"Please, just leave." I utter, even though I'm not being truthful. "Please."

She shakes her head all apologetic: "I can't."

I feel how the curve in the mattress almost encourages me to roll over to her. Her right hand is slowly stroking my lower leg. It's ridiculous how she wants to comfort me, even though I'm being this horrible to her. But I let her be this sweetheart. I let her sit next to me for twenty three silent minutes until I can no longer handle that repeating touch of her fingers on my skin. I get up without saying a word and walk out of the room. By the time that I come back, she's gone.

* * *

**Honestly, I wasn't really sure about this chapter, but I think that some parts of it are very important to start rebuilding their relationship from now on again ...**

**So let me know what you think. **

**Will update soon, I have a couple of chapters waiting to be put online ;)**


	24. DAY 417 - Acoustic Rihanna

**DAY 417 - Acoustic Rihanna**

Sometimes you wake up because your body has recovered enough during the night. Sometimes you wake up because you really, really need to puke.

Today's one of those glorious days. Quinn, excited about life, walks in to slap me on the ass - straight into the agonizing day that's about to follow.

"Wake up, my drunk friend."

I turn around under the sheets and discover I'm still wearing last night's clothes as I'm trying to shade my eyes. There's too much light for me to process without throwing up immediately.

"How much did we drink last night?"

She puts one of her small fingers on her lips and hums thoughtfully: "Maybe one or two tequilas."

I frown doubtfully: "Shots? No way, I would not feel this-"

"Bottles, you idiot." she interrupts my husky voice abruptly.

I crawl out of the bed and make my way over to the toilet in the next room. On my hands and knees, actually, like a true alcoholic would. My face is hovering over the toilet seat and it feels like the most comforting place in the world. My oldest friend's followed me in here and sees me lying on the floor, barely hanging on.

"Can you hurry up with the hangover act, please? We need to get going. This is your last day before you go back."

She seems genuinely annoyed. Rachel and her have an entire day planned out. Sort of like a second going away party. I guess last night was just a warm up. I growl and face her for a second.

"Please sedate me or something? Then I'll be ready to go."

Quinn's not very patient when it comes to this behavior, so she dives into me and pushes my head inches down the toilet. I can almost taste the water and smell the nauseating scent of the bowl cleaner. It does the trick, actually: it makes me gag until I finally puke my guts out. Quinn steps back with aversion and crosses her arms disapprovingly: "Utterly disgusting."

* * *

Two hours, three painkillers and a hot shower later and I'm up on my feet again. Still dizzy, but it's a start.

"What do I smell like?" I ask my friend as we're both fixing our hair in the bathroom mirror.

Seriously, I might still smell like puke.

"Poor choices." she answers.

I frown insulted and shove her hard enough to prove my point. A little bit of mascara. And some blush, it'll make me look less sick and hungover.

"Hurry up, we're going to be late." she fusses.

I turn around and put on my most serious face: "Quinn, remember: it's better to arrive late, than to arrive ugly."

She ignores my precious advice and faces me: "Are you ready for your big day out?"

A chuckle must support my lack of interest: "It's not that big of a deal!"

I guess this is the reason why I got so drunk last night: I didn't feel like saying goodbye all over again.

"Yes, it is. You'll be gone for a while again. Now hurry!"

I throw both hands up in the air and surrender: "Fine, fine. Let's go. Let's get Santana Lopez incredibly humiliated _once again_."

I'm _sure_ they have something stupid in store for me.

Quinn pats me on the back as we walk out of my room: "Oh, don't be like that. It's only been twelve hours since you did that yourself."

As we're leaving through the front door, I text the woman I'm dying to see today:

**_To: 3 Britt-Britt 3 (12h43)_**

_'Will you be there tonight? I need to see you. And show you something. xxx' _

* * *

Rachel's really surprised me with this one. First we went out shopping, then we had a delicious lunch and tonight, she organized a party. Theme: _celebrity singers_. Quinn and I received our costumes when we walked into the bar and the Iraeli dwarf didn't disappoint me at all. Twenty minutes in the changing room and I'm transformed into Rihanna herself. Seriously, it's like I walked straight out of her _Umbrella_ music video. I'm wearing nothing but a black latex outfit, a top-hat, a fishnet pantyhose, killer high heels and in my left hand, there's a black umbrella. Quinn, standing right next to me, is supposed to be Lady Gaga. Her outfit is basically a copy of the 2010 Grammy Awards look. And she has incredibly long fake eye lashes that seem very uncomfortable.

"I must say, Hobbit, you've managed to captivate my rebelliousness slash sexiness quite well." I compliment the annoying little brat in front of me while allowing my hands to accentuate the most female curves of my body.

I pat her on the shoulder, very businesslike, and have another look at my awesome costume. Then I stare at Rachel for a while. She's Barbra Streisand from _Funny Girl_. Of course she is. Well, even without the costume, that giant beak would've given it away. Even though everyone's nice and relaxed, I feel tensed. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I haven't seen Brittany yet.

Marley got invited as well and her outfit completely surprises me. My precious, quiet and incredibly shy assistant has turned into Posh Spice herself. She's wearing a very skinny dress, high heels and her hair is straightened, which lets her get away with the bitchy act.

"Look at you, Stevie Urkel. You look smoking." I tell her, not sure whether I just insulted her or not.

She blushes, slightly enchanted by my kind words, and looks away from me to catch a breath.

"Thank you, Santana. You look - You look really cute as well."

Quinn rolls her eyes at me and forces a curious smile.

"You're not flirting with your boss, are you, Marley?" she bluntly asks.

I shove my elbow against her ribs and she nearly crouches in pain.

"Shut it, Fabray." I hiss, hanging on to my smile.

Marley shakes her head rapidly and protests: "No, no. I'm just ... I just. I was just saying that Santana was really looking good tonight and -"

But I calm her down by laying a hand on top of shoulder: "It's okay Marley, Little Miss Lima Loser is just teasing you."

Marley's gone a minute later when she recognizes Jacob in the back of the room. He's Justin Timberlake, I guess. At least the wig tells me. Quinn's still got her hand carefully placed on top of her ribcage, though.

"You're such a bitch, Santana." she informs me.

I'm not impressed at all: "Well, you're not exactly a saint either, are you?"

"Just so you could calm the fuck down a little bit: Brittany's not here yet."

The girl's reading my mind. She's right, it releases me from all my nerves immediately. I've been skimming this room ever since I walked in. I nod and frown at the same time, not entirely sure if I'm sad or happy about the news: "Okay."

I'm at a certain point in my evening where I prefer alcoholic shots to being a socially acceptable bitch, so I decide to leave Rachel and Quinn alone for a while and attack the bar.

There are carnival games and cocktail stands. A lot of my old friends and people from school are around. It's nice to see them again, but I won't admit it. Jacob and Marley seem to get along fine, which is great, because that way, he won't get between Brittany and me tonight.

I expected Rachel to get a karaoke set installed, and I'm glad to discover she did. She invites Quinn to sing along during her thirteenth number of the night, while I just keep drinking the delicious Mojitos they're serving here. I'm amused by the lack of shame Quinn puts in her performance. As a Lady Gaga copycat, one of her songs is in order. With the costume on, the attitude flows naturally from her inner self. _Bad Romance_. I love that song. So refreshing after thirteen Barbra Streisand songs. I silently sing along to the French parts of the lyrics, because it makes my smoky voice sound sexy, in my own opinion. It's almost over when Rachel abandons the stage for the first time in an hour and walks over to me. She invites me up, but I'm not sure about that. She recognizes the doubt from before.

"You were _amazing_ in Atlanta, don't you remember?"

I nod, of course I do. I _was_ amazing. I sounded better than the Hobbit herself. But that's not it. I'm waiting for someone.

"This isn't Atlanta, Rachel. This is Lima. Everyone knows me here. I can't just go up there and -" I lie, in a way to cover up my true reasons.

"But you _can_!" she quickly intervenes. "Santana, you have nothing to lose. Tomorrow, you'll be ten hours away from here - from us. Come on, just one song. I know you _loved_ being up on the stage the other day."

She and her ridiculously oversized smile are right. I really did. But I'm not nearly as drunk as I was back then. And these are all my friends, everyone I grew up with.

"Please?"

Rachel puts together her hands as she's pleading.

"You can pick your own song. Anything you want. Please?"

I'm giving in way too quickly, but I guess the goal of this entire party is to have a proper goodbye and a nice evening. I've been singing a lot, lately.

At home, in the car, at my office when no one's around. It's relaxing me. It helps me to get through the hard days.

I whisper my song of choice - one I've had in mind all day - in Rachel's left ear. She backs away from me, thinks about it for a while and nods, completely intrigued. Our hands entwine and we approach the stage with a certain attitude. _I've done this before. I can do this shit. _

After a couple of seconds talking to the DJ, she's come to a certain arrangement about my selection. The guy looks confused, but eventually agrees to play whatever the diva in front of him asks him to. Quinn finishes her version of _Bad Romance_ and looks over to me with a charming smile. She reaches out to me and pulls me up on the stage.

"Rule this joint, Lopez." she orders me proudly.

I raise my left eyebrow and smirk, like this is the most normal thing in the world. Even though I'm still doubting, I manage to hide it quite convincingly. There's no bottle of tequila this time. And Brittany's still not here. I sit down on a stool in the middle of the stage and adjust the microphone stand until it levels my mouth. Strangely, I'm not nervous at all. This feels good. Comfortable.

Soft tunes reverberate through the speakers and it's great to hear that my plan worked. Acoustic, just the way I requested. The subwoofer's turned off, the hard tones of the song are faded out and the music's been slowed down - it's perfect. I had no idea the DJ could pull this one off. My legs are crosses, my eyes are shut and I put my hand on top of the microphone before I start singing. Rachel and Quinn are standing in front of me, but I need to block them out. I need to gather the feelings and let them all out.

_"You were in college working part time waiting tables _

_Left the small town, never looked back _

_I was a flight risk with a fear of falling _

_Wondering why we bother with love if it never lasts"_

I open my eyes again to stare into the blinding lights. All around me are people I know, but in the front row, my two very best friends are watching me. Their faces look enchanted and soft, like they're captivated by my words. They've never heard an acoustic version of a silly Taylor Swift song before. And now here I am, Santana Lopez herself, choosing this one to be her goodbye anthem. But I'm not bothered by their presence. I guess this song has nothing to do with saying goodbye to my friends at all. It's about Brittany. Of course it is about her. I'm saying goodbye to her, because tomorrow, I'll be in Atlanta again, for God knows how long. And this is my way of apologizing, I guess.

_"I say can you believe it? _

_As we're lying on the couch _

_The moment I can see it _

_Yes, yes, I can see it now"_

I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes to get a firmer grip on my voice. It's allowing me to get a better view on the crowd, that's silently, amusingly swaying to the sound of my voice. But in the corner of the room, there's a person that draws my instant attention. It's Brittany, who decided to show up after all. She's been there for a while, I can tell. She's wearing a replica of the Britney Spears' _I'm a Slave 4 U_ music video. I guess she played along with the theme. The girl looks smoking hot, but her face isn't radiating joy or pleasure. No, she's staring at me in pain and wonder. I recognize her expression from my own, that afternoon, when I witnessed her dancing in the studio. For a split second, I contemplate on stopping. But I keep singing anyway, because I guess it's the whole point of this song: so I could say things with music, when words just aren't enough. And I need to tell her something that I don't know how to say.

_"Do you remember we were sitting there by the water? _

_You put your arm around me for the first time _

_You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter _

_You are the best thing that's ever been mine"_

Her face lights up, because she knows this is about her. Quinn and Rachel have discovered who I'm staring at. One orientated look behind them and they saw Brittany, crossing her arms in a way to keep herself comforted. She's behind all of these people, but she's the only person I can see. The crowd seems to disappear with every word I sing. A deep swallow, displaying all of her emotions, makes her throat go up and down fiercely. She's close to crying, but so am I. I feel tears crawling up inside of me, fighting to get to that exit point. It's starting to slightly affect my voice, but in a good way - a very emotional and magical way.

_"Flash forward and we're taking on the world together _

_And there's a drawer of my things at your place _

_You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded _

_You said we'll never make my parents' mistakes"_

The lyricsremind me of the first months we were a couple. They remind me of the joy and the laughter. Of the countless, sleepless nights when we passionately made love and stared into each other's eyes for hours. Those were the happiest days of my life.

_"But we got bills to pay _

_We got nothing figured out _

_When it was hard to take _

_Yes, yes, this is what I thought about"_

All the way back in Atlanta, those nights were the ones that kept me going. That look in her eyes, through the darkness of it all, that filled my stomach with butterflies and love. But she's not looking at me like that right now. I see sadness and heartache. I see lack of trust and confusion. I see hurt, something _I_ did to her. When _I_ left.

"_Do you remember we were sitting there by the water? _

_You put your arm around me for the first time _

_You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter _

_You are the best thing that's ever been mine_ "

I mean every word of it. She _is_ the best thing that's ever been mine. She opened up my eyes _and_ my world _and_ my heart. So right now is an appropriate moment to actually start crying. And she plays along. She's not holding back anymore, but wipes away the painful drops of tears as they run down her cheeks. Her bottom lip's trembling and it's heartbreaking.

_"Do you remember all the city lights on the water? _

_You saw me start to believe for the first time _

_You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter _

_You are the best thing that's ever been mine"_

Everything I am today, I have her to thank for. Her touch has changed the life of me. Her encouraging words and behavior got me where I am right now. Rachel Berry might have dragged me up on a stage in Atlanta, but she's the actual reason why I started singing after all. Brittany suddenly looks away from me and I know exactly why: even though she's going through this emotional journey with me, she can't help but thinking about that day when I left her behind. How I packed my bags and just walked out the door. I'm a terrible person. She must think that about me. I feel the same way. But this is how it is. And deep down inside, I've realized that she's right: we can't just go back to the way it was, like I thought we could. I broke something, thinking I did the right thing, and now we have this price to pay.

_"And I remember that fight, 2:30 a.m. _

_As everything was slipping right out of our hands _

_And I ran out crying and you followed me out into the streets"_

I've put my hand on top of my heart right now, and my eyes are shut to focus on the lyrics. My voice trembles slightly, but still carries the song like I've written it myself.

_"Braced myself for the goodbye _

_'Cause that's all I've ever known _

_And you took me by surprise _

_You said I'll ever leave you alone_"

I open them widely again and stare right at her. She's blinking multiple times, trying to see through the vicious tears that blur her view and quickly sniffs to pull herself back together a little bit again. Her eyes are red.

_"You said _

_I remember how we felt sitting by the water _

_And every time I look at you, it's like the first time"_

I tilt my head a little bit and force a gentle smile. I guess it's the truth. Every time I see her, I fall in love again. There are butterflies and nerves and tingling feelings that have no words that do them justice. Her baby blue eyes softly smile as well and it's the most painful thing to witness.

_"I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter" _I sing.

After that, I inhale deeply. My hand grabs my chest again and I look away from her and everyone around.

_"She is the best thing that's ever been mine"_

It reverberates loudly through the room for a while. I've put so much emotion into it that, when I open my eyes, and face Quinn and Rachel, they have tears rolling down their cheeks as well.

Brittany's still not moving a muscle. All she does is listen to the words, absorbing them one by one. She has the prettiest, saddest little face in the entire universe - and all that I can think of is that I'm supposed to leave her again tomorrow.

_"You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter _

_You are the best thing that's ever been mine"_

I shrug and offer her all of my apologies through my voice and my movements.

_"Do you believe it? _

_We're gonna make it now"_

I almost start whispering, because these are my final words. My final emotions. It's a promise: I'll make it up to her.

_"And I can see it _

_I can see it now"_

My heart races as the music fades out. I have no idea what's about to come. All the people in the crowd start applauding, especially Quinn and Rachel. I smile shyly and accidentally face them for a second. Big mistake, because when I look up to search the love of my life again, she's disappeared.

* * *

I can't find her after I finished singing. She seems to have taken off and it kills me that I couldn't talk to her for five seconds. Quinn, who caught up with me in the hallway that leads to the outside of the bar, rubs my back encouragingly.

"That was beautiful, Santana. If she doesn't take you back after this ..."

I smirk all sad and depressed and look her in the eye: "I'm nowhere close to making it up to her, Fabray. It's just ... There's more to it, you know. And I can't tell her and ..."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn wonders.

But I can't tell.

"I promised someone to do something - so I could protect her. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm leaving tomorrow. And I can't find her."

What if I lose my courage again and I simply never return? What if my plane crashes on my way to Atlanta? What if I get hit by a car and this is the last time I've ever seen her? _You're overreacting, Santana._

"If I knew I'd only have 5 more seconds to live, I'd still think of her before I die." I say without realizing that Quinn might not have a clue what I'm talking about.

But she does. Quinn always does. I turn away from her and escape through the main door, where I finally find the girl I've been searching for the last fifteen minutes.

"Brittany!"

All she does is stare at me with wonder. Rachel interrupts by walking outside as well, applauding and complimenting me dramatically. I turn around to yell at her, because this simply isn't the time. She needs to go, right now, before Brittany sees another opportunity to run off. But my ex girlfriend grabs my hand to calm me down. It works magically.

"Don't do it, Santana."

"Do what?" I ask her.

"Don't insult Rachel."

The jewish girl looks confused and decides that leaving is an appropriate thing to do. She's gone in an instant.

"I wasn't planning on insulting Rachel." I say, lacking the convincing part.

"Yes, you were." Brittany corrects me. "Because you're scared and this is what you do when you're angry and scared. Don't do it. It's not her fault that we broke up."

"No, that would be my fault." I whisper painfully aware of my own mistakes.

I let go of her hand. A couple of seconds pass, where we take turns at staring at the darkness.

"You know ... If I would wake up one day with a massive hangover, a black out from the night before and a wedding ring around my finger - and it would turn out that I married you in Vegas, I wouldn't be really upset about that." she suddenly says, courageously.

My eyes simply blink five times in a row, because that was just a little bit too direct and too confusing to take in all at once. I force her to look me in the eye. Her face softens up. Still that Brittany weirdness that makes no sense at all, but makes _perfect_ sense at the same time.

"So this is your way of telling me you would like to marry me one day?" I ask.

She nods proudly: "Yes."

I sigh and force away some tears. I hesitate, but dive in to kiss her after all. She responds by touching my lips with her most tender touch. Her tongue plays around with mine and my knees go weak. Oh, she tastes so sweet. So familiar. We're not friends yet again, but man, do we love each other. Her fingers grasp my skin in desperation.

"I will always love you the most, okay?" I whisper silently as our mouths part.

She nods against my forehead and closes her eyes. My index finger gently brushes her cheek and her skin feels so soft that I wish I could kiss it all night long.

"When I get back, I'll tell you everything. I promise: I will explain why all of this is happening. And this second chance will come for us. It's just a matter of time."

Darling Brittany doesn't ask for the details. I knew she wouldn't. Whenever I tell her something, she just assumes it's the truth and remains patient enough until the rest of it follows. But after a silent minute, she shakes her head disapprovingly. It almost causes my heart to stop.

"I don't want a second chance, Santana. I want a lifetime." she informs me and it's the most amazing thing I've ever heard.

She's biting her bottom lip while those pretty eyes shy away from staring at me. She's still so close to me. We can't seem to let go of each other.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." I tell her.

She nods, even though she's not pleased to hear that.

"Okay. But you'll come back. You'll come back for me, right?"

I promise her I will: "Of course. I'm going to fix what I broke, okay?"

She nods. Again, no questions - no doubt.

"Can I call you?" I ask.

"You need to. I don't think I can survive another six months without you."

I smile through a sigh: "Neither can I."

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**Gonna update frequently from now on, since I have some chapters waiting to be published. It's all coming together again, I promise ;) **

**Next chapter's gonna be gooooood :) **

**Liked this one?**


	25. DAY 439 - FaceTime fun

**I'm pretty sure you'll enjoy this one ;)**

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**DAY 439 - FaceTime fun**

Quinn's in Atlanta, along with my parents. One week with overly excited people around me. They are euphoric to be here - and I can't handle their enthusiasm. I guess they're just really happy to see me again. The feeling's mutual. In order to make some sort of effort to win the _daughter of the year _award, I send my mom and dad off to a couple of cosy places around town today. I've found my way to the best restaurants and cutest little stores over the last couple of months and I know my parents both appreciate that.

When they finally arrive at my apartment again, they've brought along delicious Mexican food. I never cook, so this is a massive time saver for me. Mom's always trying to make me eat until I drop dead instantly and so, she's stuffing my face until I can't chew anymore. When I look around the table, I only see happy faces. The gathering is nice. The chatting's nice - the connection - the fact that Quinn fits in perfectly. I love every second of this precious moment. I've been lonely for the last couple of months. But I need to get up and call Brittany. We've been calling each other every day since I left Lima the second time. It's great. It's more than great. It feels like I can finally breathe again - like this time, coming over here is with a purpose. We talk for hours. Sometimes in the middle of the night. Sometimes when I'm at work and I'm bored. Just like before, actually. And every conversation helps us to rebuild our relationship. It strengthens our connection, our level of friendship and that was the entire point, wasn't it?

"_Mija_, are you done eating already? You should eat more, you're too skinny."

I smile over my endearing mother and shake my head. She's so protective.

"I'm not, _Mami_, I'm good."

I leave the dinner table and make my way across the room. I'm wearing a cute, white T-shirt and red, flannel pajama pants. My gayest look ever. _Papá_ softens his eyes when he sees me walking towards the door - phone in my hand - and hums loud enough for me to turn around again.

"Where are you going, Santana? I thought we could have a nice chat after dinner."

This Mexican takeaway was wonderful, but I always call Brittany at this hour. Not even a conversation with my dad can make me break that habit.

"This will only be a second. I'll be right back, _Papá_, I promise."

But he's not convinced: "Does this have to do with work again? Because let me tell you, your boss is really being -"

"It's Brittany. I'm calling Brittany." I confess, while rolling my eyes, to make him stop talking judgmentally.

I feel fifteen years old again. He shuts up and turns around to look at my mother. She's been enchanted by my softer attitude lately and now she finally figured out where that comes from. Her stroking fingers force my dad to relax, and her gentle nod sends me out of the room. I dial her number on the way to my room and hold the phone in front of me. Seriously, FaceTime's my most favorite thing on earth recently. As soon as she accepts my call, I see her precious face - a little bit too close to the camera. She looks sleepy.

"Hi."

"Hi."

I sound like a freaking dork.

"Am I interrupting ... something?"

She smiles right at me: "You never do."

"Are you alone?"

She's nodding. I guess Brittany will never figure out that people can't actually _hear_ a head gesture through the phone. Luckily, this time, I can see her moving.

"I knew you'd call, but I fell asleep while I was talking with Lord Tubbington. How was your day?"

I shrug: "I guess it was okay. Work was okay. Dinner was okay. Quinn and I hung out. It was ..."

"Okay?" she completes the sentence with a goofy smile.

I nod and start to blush. God, even six hundred miles away, she still makes me feel like this. I wish I was right there, next to her. Then I could smell her, feel her, touch her ... I might even try to kiss her. She's looking ravishing tonight. Nothing but an oversized hoodie and her hair hanging down loosely for me to see, but it's perfection. There's no make up, no special hairdo and I can't remember ever seeing her more beautiful.

"How was _your_ day? Danced a little?"

She suddenly looks proud as she bounces backwards on her bed. She's in her bedroom and that place still looks the same.

"Mike and I have this new routine. We're using it to enter a competition next week. It's so awesome. I wish you could see it. You'd love it."

The corners of my lips turn up softly: "I already do."

"You haven't even seen it yet." she states adorably.

"And I love it anyway."

"You're silly, Santana." she whispers teasingly.

I whip my hair back over my shoulder and sit down on my bed as well: "Only for you."

We're flirting like _crazies_. Ridiculous, really. But I can't help it. I miss her so badly.

"I wish FaceTime could make me touch you. I miss touching you."

That might have sounded a little bit too sexual, but Brittany clearly doesn't mind.

"Well, why don't you design some sort of sex toy for that, then?"

A bit in an embarrassed response, I shake my head: "Oh, I didn't mean, like ... I mean. I would - but ..."

She giggles and runs some fingers through her hair. Her phone's on top of her breasts now, I can tell. I see those lovely twins, covered by her hoodie, and a close up of her face. _Can't complain, Lopez! This is the shit._

"When are you coming back to Lima?"

I'm not sure. When I'll get some time off, I guess. And only if Alex will finally cut me some slack.

"As soon as I can, Brittany, I promise."

Her face is soft and lovingly. I wonder what she's thinking. Then again, I probably wouldn't understand any of it. The freckles are there for me to witness. And the baby blue eyes.

"I love you, Brittany."

_Fuck_. I didn't mean to say that out loud. She doesn't mind, though. She pouts her lips and throws me a kiss through the air. It's the best kiss I had in a while.

"Want to know a secret, San?"

I nod, because any secret of her sounds interesting enough to me.

"I never believed in love. I mean, somehow, I was convinced that love is some sort of psychological illness, some weird mental condition. It messes with your head. Why else would you suddenly change yourself and dismiss everything you have ever believed in to be with that person you've become magically obsessed with? Why would a person allow himself to get hurt and to experience that pain when it's over? If love is that wonderful, why does it fade out anyway? It's not logical, it's not even real. It's absurd and crazy. Love is that, you know: it's going crazy without realizing."

I smirk and frown, a bit confused about what she's saying. Also, I'm slightly impressed by her speech.

"So you're telling me that you think I'm crazy? You think I'm a nut-job?"

"No ..." she responds sillily, shaking her head like a child. "I think we both are."

Before there's any time to let this moment slip away, I grab the phone that's in my left hand a little bit tighter. She notices the fierceness in my eyes as I'm trying hard not to stop breathing.

"Brittany. You look really, really pretty tonight. And I wish ... I wish I was there next to you, because ..."

She remains very calm: "Because?"

It's getting hotter in this room with every second that passes. I don't know what's happening to me.

"Because I feel like kissing you. And I feel like ripping that hoodie off of your body. And I want to touch your body."

_Oh, God, this is desperate behavior, Santana. Stop it! No, don't stop it, Brittany seems to appreciate it. _

"And then what? What would you do with my body?" she asks shamelessly and provocatively. "Where would you touch me?"

I get up from the bed and walk over to the other side of the room to lock the door. She notices that I'm moving and I guess she has heard the little click that happened behind the camera. This is some sort of fun game to her. She's eager to play.

"What are you wearing, Brittany?"

I should not be doing this. I should so not be doing this. But all I want is to do this. That familiar, sexy expression has sneaked up on her face. I recognize it from months ago - it used to drive me insanely crazy. It still does.

"A hoodie." she says calmly as I'm jumping on top of the sheets again.

Why is that vision so limited? Why is the only thing I see the couple of letters that are displayed on that grey material? Is it too much to ask for a wide screen camera view?

"And what else?"

Her half smile I've missed so much. It either means she's going to apologize for something she has yet to admit or it means she's up to no good. I hope it's the latter one. Her face disappears from the screen and I'm immediately disappointed. But that feeling fades away rather quickly as soon as I gather she's allowing the camera to travel along her body. She was right. She is wearing that hoodie. But when the fabric stops, all I see is some flesh. Her pale skin is showing from underneath the piece of clothing. And as the camera continues the journey downwards, I discover there's nothing else so complete the outfit. No pants, no hotpants, no panties ... Just her uncovered core. Nicely trimmed. And it looks really, really wet. I swallow hard, since my throat feels dehydrated. _Oh, my God._ This conversation has escalated rather quickly.

"What are we doing?" I ask.

I can't come up with anything else to say. The camera travels back to her face. I never get tired of seeing that. She looks naughty and undisturbed. I like that about her. Sexuality comes so naturally to her.

"What are _you_ wearing?"

I'm ashamed to admit it and bite my lower lip: "Some flannel pajamas. I wasn't in a sexy mood when I came out of the shower before dinner, really."

My lip movement is turning her on. It always has.

"And how is that mood right now?"

I smirk and raise one eyebrow: "Progressed."

"Well, then I advice you to take off those hideous pants."

I'd jump out of the window if she'd ask me right now, so I throw the phone down on the covers and grab the hem of my pants to rip them down. But her protesting voice catches my attention. I look over to find her on the screen again.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, but were you really planning on stripping down while I can't see it?"

She's got some of her blonde hairs in her mouth. It's crazy sexy. I shake my head and apologize. Then, with one skillful hand, I pull down every piece of clothing below the belt, giving her a clear view on the action. She breaths heavily in wonder, with her mouth agape and I love that look on her face.

"I want to kiss you, Santana." she pants.

I nod, admitting to feel the exact same way.

"I want to do a lot more inappropriate things to you than kiss you."

She shrugs and exposes her most precious face: "Then do it. Tell me what you want to do and I'll show you."

Another deep swallow. I can't believe this is happening. We've talked for weeks now, discussing everything but sex and fantasies. And now, here we are - participating in phone sex. I haven't even done anything yet, but I'm already a loyal fan.

"I would start by kissing you. On the lips. Very softly."

My voice is kind of shaky. But I guess that's normal. She listens carefully and places her index finger on those beautiful lips of her.

"Then I'd travel down your neck."

Her fingers proceed the journey. My cheeks are burning. They feel so hot. I feel so hot. My lips smack before I say anything else.

"My fingers would totally disappear underneath your hoodie and - as always - they'd find their way to your breasts."

Her free hand slides down her torso, the camera strategically follows the movement. I see the paleness of her skin creeping underneath the fabric and it's turning me on badly. My hands are slowly starting to caress my naked, upper thigh.

"Would you kiss them?" she asks, softly moaning.

I shake my head and stare her straight in the eye: "I would knead them. Softly, at first. But after a couple of seconds, I'd feel your hot breath in my mouth - because I'd be passionately kissing you - and my fingers would pinch those little pink nipples of yours."

"Hard?" she asks, as I see some movement under her hoodie that's quite suggestive.

We've reached the point where all shame has vanished like fresh snow.

"Depends. How hard are they?"

"Very hard." she answers me.

Her eyes are wanting me. I recognize that look from a thousand feet away. My index finger has subtly moved up by now. It's caressing my groin - which feels so good.

I lick my lower lip with pleasure and she notices: "Are you touching yourself, babe?"

But for a moment, I'm startled. She's called me _babe_. For the first time in months, she's called me _babe_.

"I'm starting to. You make me hot, Britt-Britt. So very hot."

"And wet?"

Her voice is dark and low now. So freaking sexy. I smirk.

"Extremely wet."

"Good. I need you to be very wet. Because I'd make my way over to your sexy lady parts to eat you out until your legs are paralyzed for hours. And I can't do that if I can't taste you."

I forgot to breathe for a moment. Oh, my God, she's too good at this.

"I love the way you taste. I miss the way you taste." she continues, while kneading her breasts a little further.

I get that this turns her on even more. I am totally okay with it.

"Place your phone against a pillow at the back of your bed. I'll do the same." she tells me.

It'll be a lot easier. And we'll get to see each other completely. I do as I'm told and she does the exact same thing. Here we are, both without pants, staring into a camera.

"Now sit up straight and touch yourself down there for a second, will you?"

I nod and strike my finger against my vagina, which makes me close my eyes unexpectedly and thrust back with joy. I hear her gasp all the way from Lima.

"You look so sexy, Santana. Now get your hand up to your face."

I listen.

"Now lick your finger and tell me how it tastes."

My mind's not even wondering if that's an appropriate thing. I guess nothing about this is appropriate. My index finger slides inside my mouth and my tongue rubs the flesh until it's cleaned. She's not saying a word. She just follows my facial expressions and forbids her eyes to blink.

"It's warm. And sticky." I tell her. "Also, a little bit sweet."

She nods, like she can remember. At the same time, she's staring at my body so intensely that I almost feel her eyes burning a whole trough the screen.

"You're crazy beautiful, Santana."

Shyly, I respond: "And you're sexy as hell, Britts."

She pulls the hoodie over her head and tosses it to the side. I do the exact same thing with my little T-shirt. Her breasts are visible now. God, I've missed them.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask her.

She shrugs and then there's that cute half smile: "I don't know, you tell me! What do you want me to do?"

I chuckle and drop my fingers to the lower part of my body again: "Well, I want you to jump on a plane and finish the job for me, but I guess you can't do that."

She shakes her head childishly and puts a couple of fingers around her right nipple again. They are hard, I can tell. Her other hand's supporting her head, so she can stare right into the camera. Without many other words or directions, she guides herself downwards and with my mouth agape, I observe how her index finger disappears deep inside of her vagina. I swallow deeply and blink three times in a row to gather my thoughts. I'm such a fan of advanced, modern phone sex.

She has that naughty look on her face that I love. She knows I do. I'm so happy we're doing this. We're forgetting about all the shit that's happened lately, by tumbling back in our old habits. It's great to see her this pure, this sexually approachable. Just wait until I'm back in Lima.

I'm pleasing myself as well by now. Looking at her has unconsciously caused me to start teasing my clit softly. It feels so good. Everything I do under her supervision feels good. I start panting and throw my head back on the pillow. But quiet is the word, Quinn and my parents are still in the living room. I assume they won't hear me breathing this fast and loud ... _Right?_

As I'm thrusting my finger in and out of my vagina, my mind's come up with some crazy game. It envisions that girl Hanna, while she's having sex with _my_ Brittany. The sight is driving me insane, but at the same time, it's a massive turn on. Because I see Brittany's face in front of me right now, all the way in Lima. And even though we're not touching each other, we're having sex with each other right this second. In my mind, in my fantasy, she looks troubled and slightly pleased whenever she gets touched. But when I open my eyes and face the screen, there's that insanely joyous expression lighting up her existence every time I give her an instruction to execute. And it's beautiful. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. My tights are starting to become kind of spastic, just like my vagina is being overwhelmed by some sort of massive wave of thrills.

"I'm so close, Brittany." I almost whisper.

She heard. She's almost there as well. But her finger stops and when I ask her why that is - completely out of breath and forced by my body to stop touching myself - she just smiles and observes how all my nerves are taking over.

"Keep touching yourself, San. Just a couple more seconds. Don't stop."

It's so sensitive, so incredibly excited, that it's hard to hang in there. The black in front of my closed eyes changes to millions of other colors and my breathing stops for a solid seven seconds when her words finally push me over the edge. My toes curl all the way up, while my spine arches off the bed. I sit up straight in one smooth movement and open my eyes completely overcome.

"Fuck!" I utter, while finally opening my lungs for air again.

She smirks and softly whispers my name a couple of times.

"Seems like it's been a while."

My numb eyelids force themselves open and I tell her to shut up with a smile.

"What about you?" I ask her.

"I wanted to see you come, completely focussed."

I'm flattered by her sweetness.

"You've seen me come a million times before."

She nods: "But not on a screen. It looks kind of good on a screen. We should do this more often. Don't you think?"

She's making some kind of arrangement and I'm not sure what I'm agreeing on. But I do - of course I do. This was awesome, even though we're ten hours away from each other.

"Now you finish, please. I want to see you as well."

She shakes her head and picks the phone off her pillow. I pout, because life just isn't fair.

"Don't worry, Santana. I'll tape it ... and when you go to bed in a couple of hours, you can watch it over and over again. Deal?"

Deal? That's like the best proposition I ever got!

"I miss you, Britt-Britt."

Her blonde hairs hang in front of her eyes, but that doesn't keep me from noticing a soft and tender look: "I hope you'll be back soon. I miss you too."

She blows me a kiss and ends the phone call without a notice. Well, at least I have something exciting to look forward tonight.

A disturbed sigh reverberates through the room. It's both sad and happy. Happy because we came this far. We got here through hard work and a lot of talking. And sad because she's not here with me. But we're so close to being okay again.

I might not have Brittany sleeping next to me tonight. I might not feel her or kiss her good night. But I do have this wonderful new idea thanks to Britt. A sex toy with remote control. I lay down on the bed and put my hands behind my neck. It'll be some sort of vibrating panties. _Yeah, that sounds right_. And the person with the password and the application downloaded on its phone will be free to surprise you at any moment he or she pleases.

_Million dollar concept in the making, Lopez. Nicely done._

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**So? Pleased? ;) **


	26. DAY 442 - Wrong call

**Short chapter - but important for the next one ;)**

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**DAY 442 - Wrong call**

Quinn didn't feel like tagging along with my parents today, so she just followed me to work. I guess hanging out with old people isn't really her kind of thing. Unless one of them is a handsome guy with a big wallet.

I've been back for three weeks and everything seems normal again. I'm back at work, Marley's still my good man in a storm and the company's doing really well. My mom's driving me insane after being here for a whole week, but luckily, they'll leave tonight. Seriously, I love her to death, but she needs to go before I get Berry feelings associating with the thought of her. Next week, the company will launch an entire new line of sex toys and I couldn't be more excited - and happy to have some peaceful and quiet final moments before the rush of work starts yet again. Quinn knows all about the new toys. I secretly send her prototypes and our top selling products, accompanied by notes that suggest she could try them out with the Hobbit. There's something about my jokes she's not appreciating, though, but I must say: she never actually returns any of the packages.

We're hanging out at a nice coffee shop during my early morning break, while chatting our way through the last couple of weeks.

"How's your love life, Fabray? Still not hooking up with anyone besides Gayberry?"

She rolls her eyes, completely annoyed by my ongoing teasing and slurps her coffee with a growl.

"Shut up. We did it once. _Once_! Just let it go already."

But that's just too much to ask: "I can't, Fabray. You really outdid yourself. I mean, she's like the female Carlton Banks. The white, female Jewish Carlton Banks. And you put your finger inside of her."

My massive sunglasses prevent my disgusted frown to be shown.

"I'm serious, Santana. Enough with it. I just wanted to experiment, okay? That's what young women do, right?"

I nod and smile relieved, because _thank God they do_.

"You could've picked someone else, don't you think? You know enough lady lovers to get your mack on." I continue shamelessly.

She leans over the table and fakes a smile: "I know Brittany and I know you. Now, which one would you've preferred I slept with?"

My mocking stops immediately. I guess she _has_ a point.

"You see, I could've slept with you, but that would've been terribly weird and awkward, right?" she continues.

I shrug, not entirely convinced about that: "I don't know. Maybe it wouldn't. I guess we know each other long enough to have some fun - just for one night. Besides, you wouldn't regret it. I'm _awesome_ between the sheets. I'd make you come three times in a row."

She smirks and sits back straight to observe my confident smile.

"And how do you think Brittany would feel about that? _Hey, Brittany, I screwed the love of your life while you were apart, because I felt like experimenting after a fun night out_." she frowns. "I don't think so."

I tap my fingers on the table top and bite my bottom lip. _Sounds kind of rationally_. Before I even dare to think about the other option, she illustrates that one as well.

"Or, _Hey Santana. While you were in Atlanta, doing your job and all, I went over to Brittany one night and we had this awesome lesbian scissoring experience_."

I put my hand in front of her mouth to make her stop. The image alone is making me sick: "Alright, alright. So you did the nasty with Berry. Fine, I get it."

I'm feeling mortified, but I'm not sure if it's about picturing Quinn naked with Rachel or picturing her naked with _my_ Brittany.

We let it go, at least for now, and order another drink. These coffees will be the death of me.

"So what did you do for Valentine's Day?"

Quinn's trying to find out whether I'm dating. She has been all week.

"I hit a wall." I recall, while frowning.

She puts down the cup of hot coffee that's in her hands. I shrug and bite my bottom lip.

"Oh, like emotionally?"

Her hand's on my shoulder. I smirk and shake my head quickly: "No, like literally. With my car."

She opens her eyes and nods - all confused: "Oh."

"It was the company car. Alex yelled at me for hours over the phone. But it wasn't entirely my fault. I just didn't see that truck coming at me. And my high heels prevented me from finding the brake pedal fast enough."

She's impressed by my little story, but not in the good way. My phone, lying on the table, starts buzzing and a curious Quinn is having a look at it. We both stare at the picture of Brittany. After three rings, Quinn asks me why I'm not answering. I do, eventually - after the happy feeling has been processed - and get up to walk away from that nosy friend of mine.

"Hi, Britt-Britt. How are you?"

She smiles into the microphone as soon as she hears my voice. It makes my heart jump a beat.

"I'm fine ... I could be better, you know."

I'm immediately worried: "Why, what's wrong?"

"You're not here with me."

A tender, enchanted smile captivates my face: "Oh, Brittany. I miss you too."

We seem so much more relaxed over the phone than we are in real life lately.

"Hey, uhm - I'm with Quinn right now. We're having coffee at this awesome shop a couple of blocks away from my apartment. Can we talk later? When I'm alone?"

We always talk when we're alone. That suits us best; it allows us to talk about whatever we feel like talking about. Sometimes it's just about work and the weather. Sometimes it's about rainbows and unicorns._ No, seriously, it is_. She doesn't respond, but I'm sure she nods all the way back in Lima, like she always does.

"Okay, bye."

Her voice is soft and childish as she breathes out her relief to have heard mine: "Bye."

I make my way back over to Quinn, who's patiently criticizing every person that's passing our table.

"How is she?"

I nod, convincingly: "She's okay. She's working at the company now, a couple of hours a week. It's good. It's progress."

She pouts for a second and puts her hand on top of mine, which is placed in my lap.

"And how is ... you know. The two of you, how's that going?"

She's always been this good of a friend, even though we can't stop torturing and annoying each other. I guess that's the most valuable part of our connection: we sometimes can't stand each other and bring out the worst in each other, but we know we'll always have this right here - this friendship. No matter how many times she sleeps with Rachel and lies about it to my face, I don't care, because when I'm having a rough day, Quinn's there to cheer me up without any tact or compassion. And that's how you effectively handle a true Lopez. But no way I'm telling her about the phone sex from the other night. _And_ Brittany's awesome video I've watched a million times already.

"I guess we're getting there. But it's hurts, you know. It hurts so very much." I admit.

Her fingers caress the palm of my hand and she nods: "That's called love, babe."

I stare at her perfect face: "Well, love sucks."

Quinn's weirdly troubled by my behavior, obviously, because she shakes her head like she needs to snap out of some sort of trance and pats me at my shoulder to cheer me up.

"I don't get it, Santana. You used to be a flight risk when you were dating someone. You never cared this much. You just dumped every guy you had sex with and ran over to the next. But when it comes to Brittany, you're so fragile and needy and ..."

"I know." I sigh, disgusted about myself. "Relationships used to mean nothing to me. But with Brittany - it's like ..."

I sit up straight and stare into her eyes, all fierce and passionate.

"It's like I need her to be with me, you know? I _need_ her. Going back made me realize that all over again."

She's decided that enough is enough, even though I don't agree. I guess she just hates to see me like this fragile.

"You _could_ find someone new, you know? Trust me: there are a lot of fish in the sea." she states.

Such a terrible cliché. I see how her left eyebrow doubtfully rises for a second.

"Though, I'm not really sure what you're searching for, actually." she continues. "I mean, which team are you officially playing for now? Guys - girls? Are you, like, one hundred percent gay or ...?"

I roll my eyes and make her shut up. _Hypocrite. You slept with a girl yourself._

"It doesn't matter _what_ I am, Fabray. I'm in love with Brittany and I'm not looking for a guy or a girl or a freaking fish. I just want her."

"And she happens to be a girl?" she asks, still trying to figure it out.

I nod encouragingly: "And she happens to be a girl."

"So basically, you have a case of questionable heterosexuality?"

I roll my eyes again and growl.

"No, I'm a full-blown lesbian, for sure ... But I just - I only want her."

Of course, Quinn will never understand _that_ concept of loving.

"So what's the plan? Are you gonna sit around and wait for the two of you to get your shit back together - and then she'll forgive you and come back to you?"

She makes it sound so terribly wrong. But I can't do anything else but agreeing with her words.

"Well ... Pretty much, yeah".

Her jaw drops. That's terribly pathetic in her opinion.

"What if that takes forever?" she asks.

I shrug and smile all goofy: "Then I'll wait forever."

It's the truth. I will.

"You've got to be kidding me?"

She's really hoping I am. But I numbly respond: "No."

"I don't get it, Santana. You confuse me so much, even after all those years."

She makes me smile a little bit. How can I make this clear to a girl that has never had a true love in her life? Maybe some Brittany wisdom will help.

"You know that some people believe in unicorns, don't you?"

Quinn puts down her cup and faces me confusingly: "Is this a gay thing?"

I chuckle and shake my head: "No! I'm just saying. Some people believe in unicorns. And others don't. I used to be one of those. But one day, I found a unicorn. You see, Brittany is my unicorn. And the thing with unicorns is, that once you've seen one, you can never undo that. You can never just go back to that time where you weren't sure if you would ever see one. Because seeing them is magical and special and it makes you the happiest person in the world. And all I want right now is to have that magical feeling back."

She's looking at me with her mouth agape like I'm speaking Chinese - or just took a shitload of drugs. Sure, in my opinion, it must have made sense, but only Brittany can talk Brittany fluently. Not even I'm qualified enough to use her kind of metaphors.

"It's official, this break-up has totally got you fucked up." the blonde in front of me decides.

We toast with our cups of coffee and smile.

"Chances are ..."

* * *

I'm in my office, wandering around while putting away some files. My mother made me when she visited me an hour ago. Counting down the hours until she leaves, to be honest. I suddenly appreciate living alone - and far far away from her - a lot more. Brittany's face lights up my cell phone that's on the desk and I couldn't be happier. I haven't heard from her all day. We normally text each other every other hour, but she's been MIA since this morning around nine. _And it's three p.m. already!_ I pick up all enthusiastically and - since I'm alone in my massive office - I put on my naughty act: "Hi, sexy, I've been dying to hear your voice. Miss me?"

My index fingers plays around with the hem of my shirt. But the person on the other side of the phone isn't Brittany. It's Susan, her mother. I recognize her voice immediately. _Embarrassing, Lopez, just like the old days!_

"Santana? This is Susan speaking. Brittany can't come to the phone right now."

Her voice sounds troubled and serious. There's a little twitch that scares the living crap out of me. I'm not sure what to make of it, but everything about this is wrong. My heart stops beating instantly. If Brittany can't come to the phone, then why on earth is she calling me? I start to panic, without having a good enough reason and sit down on top of my desk. My instinct is telling me that there's something going on. I feel it in my bones.

"What's wrong?" my trembling voice asks.

* * *

**Excited? Don't worry, I'm going on a holiday in a few days, but I promise I'll update before I leave - so you won't have to wait and worry too long!**


	27. DAY 443 - The saddest tears on earth

So, the reason why she had to return :( .. enjoy!

* * *

**DAY 443 - The saddest tears on earth**

I took the earliest flight to dumpy Lima and ended up in my room in the middle of the night. My parents and Quinn joined me, solely to calm me down every ten seconds. I've cried a couple of times on the plane and couldn't care less that everyone could see.

Right now I'm in my bed, staring at the ceiling. Every time I try to call Brittany's number, the line goes dead. It's been thirty voicemails now. I'm so worried. I'm so terribly worried, but I don't know what to do. The mansion's abandoned and my dad has called every doctor he's friends with. But nobody knows anything. Nobody can tell us anything. Nor Susan, nor Jacob is answering the phone. I suddenly sit up straight - all nervous - and rock back and forth under the sheets, while holding on to my knees. It's feels like a tidal wave is coming over me, washing away every little last bit of sanity. I need to see her or my heart will explode.

I'm drifting away in my own mind when the doorbell suddenly rings three times in a row. It's three a.m. - why on earth would someone ... ? Since my parents have gone to bed as well and my room is the closest to the hallway, I escape my warm sheets to answer the door. All I'm wearing are some hotpants and a tight shirt. I forgot to pack my pajamas in my rush to Lima. My eyes are soar because of the dry plane air and the lack of sleep, but I don't care. I swear to God, if this is some stupid drunk idiot who's ringing the wrong door in the middle of the night, I'll go all Lima Heights on his ass. It wouldn't be the first time. Our neighbors' house kind of looks like ours. And our neighbor is an idiot who drinks too much - he's been here three times in the middle of the night before. My forceful arm opens the door at an impressive speed and I put on my most vicious look in order to yell at the intruder. But that changes the instant I lay eyes on the person in front of me.

She's drunk. Awfully drunk and dirty - and disoriented - and she came here anyway.

"Brittany." I utter, almost chocking.

My heart pounds like crazy, just because I can see her again. A painful smile welcomes me back in Lima and it's then when I notice she's holding on to a bottle of vodka. Her shirt is ripped at the left shoulder. A deep sigh escapes my lungs and I lean my head against the door frame to process my next move.

"Santana? Who's there?"

It's my dad, all the way from upstairs. I guess he woke up from the sound as well. I turn around and stare into the darkness covering the bright colors of my old hallway: "It's okay, _Papá_. Go back to bed. It's Brittany."

He's not responding at all, which is a good thing. A door closes and I'm sure we're left alone now. When I look at her again, there's a subtle tear rolling down her cheek. She looks broken. And numb.

"I miss you, Santana." she suddenly states.

I nod and stare at my feet, because I can't do this right now. I can't get into this conversation with all that's going on. But she's not done yet.

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately. And I decided that ... that I want to go for walks with you. I want to watch SpongeBob Squarepants with you on boring Sundays and sleep in the same bed with you. I want to cook for you and -"

But I interrupt her rather quickly, because I just can't help myself: "You can't cook, Brittany. You can bake a fine cake, but you can't actually cook. You'll burn down the house if you try."

She shrugs and leans in teasingly: "Then I want to burn down the house trying to cook for you."

_Charming_. I sigh - this is not helping at all.

"Do you want to come in? Get some sleep? We can talk if you -"

But it's her time to interrupt me again: "You look good, Santana. And with 'good', I actually mean 'sexy', as in: I want to rip those clothes off your smokin' hot body, drag you to your bed & make sure you'll never want to leave again ... But I can't say things like that, since we're _not dating_ anymore, so ... You look good!"

I forget about all the reasons why I came back to Lima in the first place and sigh, because every time she's drunk, she does this. Last week alone, she called me five times in the middle of the night, to tell me how freaking hot I am. And it's cute. It's dead cute and flattering, but that's not even the point. Especially not tonight.

"Why do you do that? Why do you talk to me like that when you're dating that girl ..."

She shushes me and lets herself in, passing me while her fingers linger over my barely covered stomach. I shiver, but decide not to act on it. There's a lot of things going on in her life right now. This is not the right time.

"Sex isn't dating." she tells me.

I laugh through my nose and frown. I didn't want to have that fact confirmed, actually.

"Don't you get it?" she asks me, while crossing the hallway unbalanced. "She's just a desperate attempt to replace you. I don't respect her, I don't love her. I cheat on her all the time and she knows that - she's even okay with it."

She almost laughs proudly about that fact, but gets it together again - as much as possible in this state - to turn around and have a look at me.

"I would've never done that to you." she tells me.

After that, she hiccups._ Totally reliable, Britts._

"Then why do you stay with her?"

We're not supposed to have this conversation right now. But I can't help but asking.

"Because I can't be with you right now. She sticks around through all of it, you know. She fills the spot where you used to lie. She keeps the bed warm when I finally decide to come home."

She releases a worried sigh and fakes a half smile to make her words feel less hurtful. But the attempt fails. Her eyes are looking at me with such an intensity that it gives me goosebumps.

"You left, Santana. You left me behind and it hurt."

It's the first time her words hit me with such power. The only thing I can do is shut up and stare at her, because there's nothing I can say to make it sound less terrible. She suddenly forces herself to stop and swallows deeply.

"And ... truth is, since you left, I can't stand being alone. I thought it'd be great, you know: being single and alone again after you took off to Atlanta. I thought I missed it, while we were dating - the single life. But I didn't. And I don't love her. I never will."

She drops her head and stares at her own feet. It's like she's realizing that love is this incredible bitch that'll never go away again. I take her hand, confiscate the bottle of vodka to put it down on the cabinet behind us, and guide her up to my bedroom without saying much. When we almost reach the door of my precious hideout, her fingers start to caress my thumb.

"She doesn't deserve this, Brittany. This girl is ... she has feelings, too."

But as soon as I have said it, I roll my eyes because - hello, I'm defending her new girlfriend. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

I'm just too tired. I just want to close this bedroom door and fall asleep again.

"I know. But I need someone around now you're gone, because I'm angry. I'm angry at you and I need someone to make me feel better. And if I have to pick someone to hurt, I'll always keep you safe."

She's such a sweet girl. I put her down on the bed and remove her shoes. After that, I pull the dirty shirt over her head. She's willingly allowing me to do whatever I want.

"I don't deserve that, Brittany. I hurt you. And it's okay to hurt me back."

She shakes her head and it seems like she's finally figured out the beautiful nature of herself: "I'm not like that, Santana. I'll never do you wrong."

I nod, while unbuttoning her jeans and pulling it down her legs: "I know that, Brittany. But if you ... If you decide to love this girl after all -"

I swallow deeply because I can't believe I'm actually saying this. She's faster than I am, even though she's massively hammered and can barely keep her eyes open anymore: "I'll always love you the most. So much that it hurts."

She's been put under the covers by now and I crawl right next to her. Her body feels cold and she has smelt better before, but I don't care. I'm so happy she's here, next to me. Her arms wrap around my waist tightly and I shouldn't feel as happy as I am right now, but I welcome her in my loving embrace. She came to see me. She came to see me in the middle of the night - because she needed me. Sudden sobbing sounds break my heart. It's coming from her. From my precious, precious unicorn. I catch my breath and listen to the rhythm.

"Brittany? Are you okay?"

It's a stupid thing to ask, I know, but I can't come up with anything else. She turns her head and buries her face deep in my neck. The tears are making my skin wet, and they burn like fire.

"Gramps died." she weeps, finally admitting the reason behind it all.

I bite my lower lip to hold back the tears and nod comfortingly.

"I know, baby. I know."

That's why Susan called. He died this morning, around noon. A stroke did it, in his office while he was checking the latest numbers of the company. That strong bastard survived a lifetime marriage with his bitchy wife, that horrible piece of shit Alex of his and cancer without a single whine or worry, but the chemotherapy had made his heart weak and his veins frail. And just like all the hard work from the last couple of months had been for nothing, he collapsed and died all alone, surrounded by his life's work and without any family. Story of his life, really. It's all been for nothing. My dad said nobody could've seen it coming. And now Brittany has lost her most loyal ally - and there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing but letting my fingers caress her blonde hairs, like they'll make it all better. She has the loudest and most heartbreaking whining I've ever heard while she's literally grasping on to me. I'm sure my parents are hearing it, but they won't mind. They know what's going on. I knew she wouldn't take this well, that's why I flew back to Lima as soon as I could. That's why Susan called me. Surprisingly, she figured I'd be here and she came over in the middle of the night. Some tears win the fight and they run down my cheeks to join hers. I've never seen her like this. I don't know what to do. I feel powerless and useless.

Her scent takes complete control of me. God, I love this girl. I love this girl so very much. She's everything that I've dreamed of. And she's a total fucking mess right now.

* * *

**did you guys like it? ;) This chapter will set everything in motion ... The sad feelings will make Santana think about all of it ... **


	28. DAY 444 - The Funeral

**So, I went to Rhodos (Greece) for 8 days. Relaxing at the beach, at the pool, drinking cocktails and having fun ... And I wrote about 5 chapters at once, really.**

**So I'll update frequently the next couple of days ;) **

* * *

**DAY 444 - The funeral **

I'm nowhere near her on this rainy, depressing day. Alex is too present - and so is Jacob. My ex-boyfriend and I hugged when he walked over to me in front of the church. His eyes were red and small, like he'd been crying for a while. It's heartbreaking to see a good man like him so emotional. I only ever saw him cry when I left him.

He's wearing a really nice costume to honor his granddad for the very last time today. It's nice. It's a nice tribute. Marley's standing right next to him, holding his hand for support. She told me they're dating last week. Finally, after all those months, he found someone new. And I couldn't be happier, because it's my wonderful assistant that stole his heart. She'll move to Lima in a couple of months, if everything goes well between the two of them. Maybe Alex will relax from now on. Maybe he'll soften up and he'll stop the threat of suing Brittany for not going to Atlanta. Maybe it'll all work out - once he realized that Jacob is happy ... But then again, he's a terrible, fucking bastard without a heart. Maybe I'll just have to hit him over the head with a chair - that'll save me some time.

But today's not the day to think about that. Today's about Gramps. And Brittany. She looks broken and defeated, staring at the coffin in front of the altar. Dressed in black, shoulders dropped and head down - I've never seen her like this. Susan's sitting right next to her, just as sad about her father's passing. I wish I could do something to help. But here I am, hiding in the back of the crowd like a stupid coward, watching how the rest of her family falls apart with grief. Brittany's so far away from me right now. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have a clue that I'm even in the same room. But that's not important. All energy and focus should be put on Gramps' final goodbye. We're talking about a very important and successful business man - one of the greatest from this state. Many of his former colleagues and associates are here to pay their respects. Some even take a stand behind the microphone to hold little speeches about what an economical mastermind he was. It's nice, it's good to see how people will remember him for his many efforts to employ hundreds of locals and give this town some importance in the history of America. But even Alex, who is talking to the crowd like a professional speaker, fails at pointing out his familial involvement. It's all about the company. About the money he made. The premises and the mansions on it. How hard work pays off. Nothing about what a great grandfather he was to Brittany. Nothing about his soft look, hidden behind a professional smirk, when he looked at his daughter during family dinners. Nothing about his long marriage with Grams. And Brittany's totally okay with it, I guess. She's holding on to her mother's hand, staring into the darkness of the corners of this church, hoping it'll all be over in a while. There's no goodbye for her in here. She'll do that later, I can tell.

When she suddenly raises her head and her dazzled look finally finds me, all the way across the cold room, I realize how much she's hurting. Dark circles and bags under her deer eyes do her beautiful face no justice. She's been crying for a while, that much is sure. A minute passes, as we keep fixated on each other. I nod understandably, to let her know that I'm here, no matter what. A deep sigh demonstrates how nervous I am. As soon as she got the message, she closes her eyes to cut off the sight of all the people around her to turn her head towards the coffin again. Alex' still talking. I wish he would just shut the fuck up. Put Brittany behind that freaking stand and you'll witness one memorable, emotional eulogy.

* * *

I patiently wait an entire hour before entering the graveyard. There's no one else left but her. I knew I'd find her here. This is her own little ceremony. Intimate, modest, emotional - Brittany-_ish_. Her pretty, black dress is accentuating her perfect body and I shouldn't stare at her round ass as much as I'm doing right now. She doesn't look up as the sound of my heels are approaching disturbingly loud. All she does is exhale a deep sigh. When I end up right next to her, she's hardly responding. Her eyes are aimed at the pile of flowers covering the fresh grave. In her hands, there's a pink unicorn toy. Gramps is resting here.

I hate cemeteries. They are depressing and macabre. This is no place for Brittany to be. She needs sunshine and happiness. She _deserves_ sunshine and happiness. We stand there for a while, saying nothing, doing nothing, staring into the wind and wasting time, until I innocently stretch my arm and invite her to take my hand. She finally reacts by looking at my long, caramel fingers. The girl looks so tired. So very, very tired. Like she could lie down right here, right now and fall asleep for a thousand years. I'd wait next to her and make sure she's alright.

Her fingers fit the spaces between mine perfectly, just like I remember. The touch of her flesh is exhilarating, it almost makes me choke. My free hand strokes the side of her soft cheek and she closes her eyes with emotional pain. A moment later, she bends over the grave and puts the little toy on top of the flowers. Gramps once bought it for her, when she was a very little, cute girl. It's been on her nightstand ever since. Until now, that is.

"Are you okay, Brittany?" I ask, almost too afraid to let the sound of my voice cut through the tension.

It's a stupid question. She doesn't respond, not in any way. She just squeezes my fingers so hard that it actually starts to hurt - but that's okay. It's her desperate attempt to find reality again and I let her. She turns her body to get closer to me and that's when I wrap my free arm widely around her shoulders. Her head's buried in my neck. Guided by my touch, we leave Gramps behind, to find his peace. We pass multiple gravestones, engraved with names and dates. But Brittany doesn't look at one of them. She just stares at the ground, keeping a close eye on the fingers that hold hers tightly.

"Thanks for coming, Santana." she finally whispers, as we're getting closer to the car.

Her voice is cracked. I nod and pull her even tighter against my body: "I promised I'd be back, Britt. Don't you remember?"

I'm like a parent, trying to explain an adult thing to her child. A lost tear wanders along the softness of her left cheek. I bend over to her pretty face and kiss her skin softly to make the drop of sadness disappear. She exhales with relief the moment she feels my lips on her face.

"I remember." she tells me, like it's a memory from a long time ago.

That's it. That's as much as I can take, really. I make her stop walking and she immediately looks up to my worried and troubled face.

"What's wrong?" she asks, numbly and tired.

"I am so sorry, Brittany." I confess while I force myself to keep looking at her.

Confusion colors her face. She has no idea what I'm talking about. So I guess it's up to me to go on with the explanation.

"I am so very sorry that I left you behind and took off to Atlanta. I am sorry that I didn't call you for six months. I am sorry that you were here, all this time, taking care of your sick grandfather while I was ten hours away from you. I'm sorry you had to do that alone. And I am sorry that I had to lie to you about all of it."

She frowns and forgets about her grief for a second: "Lie? What are you talking about?"

I swallow deeply, like the weight of the world is positioned on top of me and I take a courageous step forward. _You can do this, Santana. This is Brittany we're talking about. If anyone will understand, it's her._

"I need to tell you something really important, Brittany. And you need to promise me that you won't do anything irrational. Can you do that for me?"

She looks at me like she's never done anything irrational in her life before, but this girl is the walking proof of the word itself.

* * *

She never doubted me, not for a second. I never really expected her to. Still, it's a massive relief. I guess she still has faith in me - in us. We're sitting at Brittany's coffee table, going through old photo albums of Gramps. Brittany was just laughing about his adorably, yet ugly as hell baby pictures. That old man was a handsome teenager and an okay twenty something shit ... But as a baby, man, he was a little, ugly brat.

"What's wrong?"

It's Susan's voice that surprises us both. My hand was on top of hers, but as I've been trained for the last couple of months, I let go of it immediately. I called her mom on the way home. Brittany had her head on my shoulder during the entire ride. She softly sobbed as she progressed the news I just told her. It's good to finally see her smile a little bit over the pictures, even though it are bittersweet emotions.

I'm not sure how to bring this. What am I gonna tell this woman?_ Hi, your brother's an asshole. _Well, I'm not afraid to use those exact words, but I guess it's not the best selection to make a valid story. Especially not today. I swallow deeply and look over to the adorable blonde on my left. She has a pen in her hand and has started drawing little unicorns next to the cutest pictures of her Gramps. It makes me smile for a second.

"Well?" Susan encourages me.

I get up on my feet and frown in desperation. I guess this is it. This is the moment of truth. I open my mouth to let the first couple of gentle words out, but Brittany suddenly jumps to her feet and pushes me aside slightly. It surprises me, and I just stand there while she approaches her mother.

"Your brother's an asshole!" she tells her.

Susan raises an eyebrow and turns her look at me. My face's frozen, but I must admit that an evil laugh is hidden beneath it. Instead of responding, I just shrug and nod, while my nose's curled up to hide my pride.

* * *

"Good morning, Santana." Alex mumbles in a completely fake and bad mood as I enter his office. He summoned me a half an hour ago - yeah, that's the word: summon. He probably demands an explanation for why I am in Lima. I should be in Atlanta as we speak. I look around and sigh deeply. Still this hideous interior. _God, this man has no taste_. When I don't respond, he looks up to me and the expression in his eyes immediately changes. Behind me, there's Brittany - she followed me in here. He's fast enough to remind me that she's not supposed to be with me - and he fails terribly at making it sound like it's an innocent thing. She just smirks and leans against one of the ugly cabinets in the back of the room. I get that he's confused. He put on a strict face and I'm sure he's about to yell at me. But I beat him to the punch when a baseball bat magically appears from behind my back. Change strict face to alarmed face right now.

"Santana, what's the meaning of this?" he asks me, all cool and businesslike.

Again, I'm not responding. I just put the bat in front of my face and smile at it victoriously - like it's a price. Both of my hands are being put around it firmly.

"Santana!?" he demands, but I refuse to listen to his commands any longer.

He switches strategy and faces my girl: "Brittany, what's going on? Why are you here? And why is she holding that thing?"

I smirk as I take three steps to the right and approach the most hideous thing in this room: an Egyptian statue. Seriously, not that I hate Egyptian symbols and art, or anything, but this is just a poor replica. I put the bat behind my head and face Alex with a confident and vicious smile.

"What are you doing?" he panics. "Brittany! What is she doing?"

I wait as Brittany licks her upper lip and shrugs: "I don't know, Uncle Alex. That's her evil smile you're seeing right now. She uses that when she's planning something bad. It's not even close to that cute smile when she's happy - or that other one, that's exclusively reserved for me."

That last part came out in a proud way. He's too confused about her kind words to tilt his head back towards me, but a furious and strong swing of my arms - and the bat - quickly changes that. The wood hits the hideous sculpture at a massive speed and it bursts into a thousand pieces in front of me. I can't describe how excited and ecstatic it makes me feel as I see the fractions of stone scatter around me. Alex jumps out of his chair and slams his fist against the desk.

"Have you lost your goddamn mind?" he demands to know.

I'm not listening to him. I just decide that right now is an appropriate time to start my lecture: "You know, Alex. You're a fucking idiot. You're a sadistic, ugly-ass, pathetic dictator that deserves a kick in the balls."

His face reflects thunder and lightening. I've never seen him _this_ angry. Brittany stays surprisingly calm, though. The bat lingers over some precious and expensive pieces of art. I know them too well. I've been here a million times before. Alex looks frightened, because he really adores this collection. I couldn't care less, really.

"Stop this shit right now, Santana Lopez. You'll be escorted out of this office and out of this building within the next five minutes and you'll be sorry that you ever dared to -"

But I shut him off with another of my self-confident, typical Lopez smiles: "Excuse me, Alex, but I need to correct you on that. See, _you'll_ be escorted out of this office in a few minutes and I'll be over here, happily smashing this furniture to shit."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asks, while walking over to me with big and firm steps.

In a way to keep him far away from me, I raise the bat in front of me, and it seems to work. He's scared. Poor business fucker, too afraid to fight a little girl.

"I'm not sure if you're aware, but Gramps died a couple of days ago. You didn't seem to care a lot, not even at the funeral. You were busy taking over the company and making little dollar signs in your mind. Well, I need to confess something, actually."

I put the bat behind my head again and smash the nearest, ugliest shit I can find. He puts out his hands in front of him to make me stop, but - really - it won't help. Brittany's just smiling all the way across the room.

"Make her stop!" he begs her. "These things are worth thousands of dollars!"

She shrugs and crunches her nose: "Yeah, but they are really ugly, Uncle Alex."

He's startled, but I raise his attention with a soft poke against a Chinese vase, which falls to the ground into a million pieces.

"Oops!" I utter with a fake expression and a hand covering my mouth.

I'm overly pleased with myself as I turn my head toward him: "Gramps visited me a week before he died, just like he promised me at the remission party."

I can tell that every last piece of Alex' confidence has now been vanished. He didn't know about that.

"As you might guess, Brittany knows the truth about why I went to Atlanta. I told her, because I can't keep this a secret anymore. I really can't. I love her too much for that."

"So you risk making her lose everything she's ever dreamed of?" he smirks, referring to the lawsuit he has in his back pocket.

I shake my head and bend over to the craziest man I've ever met: "Gramps and I talked. Yeah, that's right. And just like I've told Britts the truth, I told the old guy the exact same version."

He frowns deeply with anger: "You did what?"

"I told him what a terrible, obnoxious dwarf you are and he didn't doubt me for a second. And after I came home, I told Susan as well. And now everybody knows. Everybody knows what a pathetic loser you are. Even Jacob."

He suddenly looks defeated. Yeah, that's right: I told the apple of his eye. I'm enjoying this a little bit too much.

"Uhu. I told your precious son how you blackmailed his ex-girlfriend into leaving the love of her life, just so he could be safe. And you know what?"

His face is frozen now. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know how to react to any of it.

"He thinks you're disgusting. Just like everyone else."

A deep swallow allows him to organize his thoughts: "So what? You can't do anything with this. You're fired, as we speak, and I won't ever let Brittany operate in this company ever again. And you dykes will finally get what you deserve."

Brittany suddenly snaps out of her enjoying position and walks over to me. She grabs the baseball bat from my hand and before I can even stop her from doing anything, she kicks the guy square in the balls. He drops to his knees, hands covering his core and turns entirely red.

"Brittany!" I utter, completely overwhelmed by this side of her.

She must be extremely mad, because I've never seen her like this. Gotta say: I enjoy seeing him crawl across the floor very, very much. I secretly wish she'd do it again.

"Don't talk about Santana like that. You're a complete fucking coward, Uncle Alex. How could you? After all the tears you've seen me cry? Don't you have a heart?"

But I grab her by the arm and pull her back to her corner before she actually uses the bat twice. I take the thing away from her and order her to calm down a little bit. Luckily, she listens.

"So, here's the thing, Alex. About five days before Gramps died, he changed his will. He left all his shares in this company for Brittany to inherent. Together with Susan, that makes a massive majority. But guess what? Susan sold her shares to Brittany as well. That makes her the new CEO of this company, I guess."

I frown as if I'm just figuring this out now and face Brittany with an evil smile. She's not being overly enthusiastic, though. She just leans against the wall and listens to me. The older guy in front of me goes entirely white as he crawls back to his feet. He knows exactly what this means. A majority can do anything. It can fire him. It did. I guess he now has no job and a nice set of blue balls. Sucks being him.

"I just gave Santana a contract which states that every activity and idea she ever put into this company remains her intellectual property - which means that the entire sex toys line belongs to her. If she ever leaves - or if anyone ever fires her, we'll be lost." Brittany suddenly informs him all the way across the room. "Now, Uncle ..."

She sneaks a peek at her Disney watch. "... you have about twenty minutes to pack your shit and be gone. And mom sends her love."

She holds out her hand to me and with a gentle, loving nod, she encourages me to take it. I feel the soft flesh of her fingers and let her escort me out of the office. Just before I pass the door, I turn around, show my most vicious smirk and wave at my ex-boss mischievously.

"And that's how they do it in Lima Heights!"

* * *

"Oh, my God! How freaking awesome was that? I just kicked the living shit out of his office!"

I laugh hysterically across the hallway. She's not nearly as excited as I am though. When I pull her back to kiss her in front of everyone else, she gently stops me with a hand positioned on my chest. I see hesitation in her eyes and it worries me.

"What's wrong? Britt-Britt?"

She sighs a massive sigh and drops her head forward to escape my look.

"Santana, I ... I need to think about this, you know? I get why you did it, Santana - why you took off and left me here. I really do. But I don't know why you didn't call. And I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you for that."

I'm speechless.

"I need to process and think about what this really means for me ... For us. Is that okay for you?"

My heart sinks to the ground because this is not what I expected at all. The truth was supposed to solve everything. I should've made her jump in my arms with joy. I should be allowed to kiss her in this hallway. But I notice how much she's struggling. I let go of her hand and bite my lower lip with disappointment.

"It's ... It's Gramps and _this_ and uncle Alex. It's all just a little bit too much right now. Do you get that? It's been one hell of a long day for me."

I nod, because I can't deny that it makes sense. But I also can't deny that she just broke my heart.

* * *

**So what do you guys think? Was it too much to handle Alex like that? Because I think it wasn't, that piece of shit had it coming ;)**

**Truth's out now! It can only get better from now on ;)**


	29. DAY 445 - Walk of shame

**UPDATE, UPDATE! Got a feeling you'll like this one ;)**

* * *

**DAY 445 - Walk of shame**

When I open my eyes, it's so dark in the room that I hardly notice the person standing next to my bed. I'm not scared or anything, I just rub my eyes an yawn, looking at the familiar body. I guess I cried myself to sleep. There are enlightening blue eyes reflecting little rays of moonlight that managed to find their way into my room. She's kicking off her shoes and unbuttoning her shirt while my brain tries to catch up with being awake.

"What are you doing? What time is it?"

For a second, I forget how mad I am at her. For a second I forget my broken heart. I just wanted a good night's sleep to get through this. Her shirt drops to the ground. Then, she pulls down her shorts and panties and steps out of them to crawl under the sheets with me. She's naked. Completely, absolutely naked. In my bed. My eyes widen immensely and I have no idea what to think of this. I mean: at this point, there's a big chance that I'm dreaming. It wouldn't be the first time ...

Her atlethic skin hovers over mine as she gently crawls on top of me. It tickles a little bit. I hold my breath and nervously swallow a couple of times. She's still not speaking.

"Brittany. You shouldn't be here." I tell her in a sleepy voice.

She looks me in the eyes and I immediately melt. It's too dark for a normal person to see, but my perfect memory of her face makes me visualize her effortlessly.

_How did she get in? Oh, right, she still has the spare key she used the last time she broke into my house._

She heaves a sigh when her lips dive in to kiss me. I haven't tasted her in a long time and suddenly, I'm reminded how great it feels. It's a soft and teasing peck. So soft that it sends shivers down my spine. I catch a deep breath, but manage to back away from her soft nipping.

"Brittany. Don't."

My fingers push against the softness of her skin. We should talk about this. But she's not listening and the more she gently licks my upper lip and bites the lower one, the more the power of my reasoning dies. Sloppy and fierce kisses allow my tiredness to fade in an instant. Did Brittany just sneak up on me in the middle of the night to have sex with me? Her strong hands slip underneath my shirt and work their way up to my breasts. When she touches them, a relieved moan leaves my mouth. Oh, God, I haven't experienced that in a long time. She moves her hot kisses to my jawline, then my neck, then my collarbone. My shirt's in the way, so she decides to push them up and her hands encourage me to lift myself off the mattress so she can pull it over my head and toss it on the ground. I'm her slave, really, because I don't protest at all. I just want her - no, I need her - to have sex with me. When she's about to take my panties off, I suddenly get really nervous. It's been so long since we last made love. So many months ago. The fabric slowly slides down my legs and it tickles me in an erotic way. Brittany knows how to undress a girl. Her left hand caresses my skin all the way up to my breasts again, while the other one teases the inside of my thighs. I just keep mine next to my pillow, completely surprised by what's happening. My eyes can't stop staring at her. And she's remembering my every curve. I swallow hard and she looks up to me, to smile lovingly. We kiss again and in that exact moment, her cold finger reaches my intensely soaked clit. I softly shriek, because my parents are home, and I can't risk waking them up at this hour - in _this_ position.

"Fuck, Brittany!" I utter.

My hips back away instinctively, while my tongue keeps tasting hers. I take her lower lip between my teeth and softy bite it. She pants. I knew she would. It's turning her on every single time. I remembered. She's not drunk, like, at all. I've never seen her this sober, I believe. The rhythm of her finger is speeding up just enough to make me tighten up my stomach muscles. My arms are still resting next to my pillow. All I do is experience whatever she's doing to me and observe how she seems to enjoy it. Her breasts are pressed against mine, just like it's supposed to be. Like a puzzle. I throw my head back and bite my fist in order to keep myself from squeaking, as soon as she slips a finger inside of me. First one, then two, then three. My body has seemed to adjusted to the way her fingers move, because my lower body is swaying up and down at the exact same pace. I've been dreaming about this moment for months now. The moment when she'd kiss me and when she'd put her hands on my skin again. Her warm breath is passing my tingling skin and she starts to pant as well. She knows it won't take long anymore now. She knows exactly how my sex works. I throw my leg up in the air and wrap it around her back, which allows her to push the fingers in a bit deeper. It feels so fucking good. Her thumb is now playing with my most sensitive spot and it's starting to blur my mind. My eyes close, because I can't handle experiencing this _and_ seeing her at the same time anymore. I can't handle anything anymore. This is even better than my memories told me. I forgot how mind-blowingly great she is in bed. She lowers her head and her teeth find their way around my hard nipple. She gently bites it and tries to pull it away from my skin. I moan, because it's getting too much to focus right now. I feel electric shocks flashing through my entire body. Every nerve and every muscles is tensed and overly sensitive and my fists pinch the soft material of my pillow to get rid of that unbearable frustration. Her fingers keeps repeating the action: in and out of my vagina, first softly, then forcibly. The walls of my womb tighten and I open my eyes again. I'm coming hard. Massively hard. I don't think I've ever had such an intense orgasm. My body curves like a cat that's stretching and it lifts my back off the mattress. I quietly shriek and groan and feel all the fluids from my core sticking to my thighs. I'm completely out of breath and fall back down, to close my eyes again and pant uncontrollably. A tear comes rolling down my cheek and I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad. A short spasm shakes my body for a second.

_Aftershock_.

She allows quick pecks on my shoulder and I love the touch of her. Another aftershock. The sides of my mouth go up. She keeps kissing my caramel skin, until she's finally ready to crawl off of me and lie down next to me, on top of my left arm. I no longer exist, I turned into a big puddle of sex and there's nothing left anymore.

_Another one_. Fuck, I feel exhausted. And good. And blurry. And kind of like she literally fucked my brains out.

I expect her to get up and get dressed, but she surprises me by staying. When I can finally turn my head again to look at her, I catch her staring at my face. She seems sad - almost scared - but I get it. I absolutely get it. Her mouth approaches me and she kisses the tip of my nose. She's so adorable. I manage to wrap my arm around her affectionately and she hides in my embrace. It's intensely pure, this moment. We're not saying a word, yet a thousand stories are told at once. Her blue eyes, the deer shaped eyes, look so innocent and apologetic. They are tired, I can tell. I'm tired, too. Of all of this, actually. She exhales deeply and it presses her chest even closer against mine. Her head find shelter on my breast. I don't care, I love feeling her heartbeat when she's this close to me. It used to calm me down, when I was asleep. My favorite sound in the world. My hand, which is softly petting her skin, makes its way to her blond, perfect hair. I play around with it for a couple of seconds and inhale the scent of her shampoo at the same time.

"I've been awake ever since he died." she suddenly whispers.

My arms, carefully embracing the perfectness of her naked body, pull her even closer to me. I don't even know how to respond to that. She realizes that.

"I can't sleep. I don't want to sleep, because if I do ... It'll be tomorrow and ..."

"I know. Tomorrow it'll all be over. Tomorrow is the day that life continues."

She nods against my skin and inhales deeply. That's the way life goes. You get until the funeral to grieve and after that, they expect you to be okay again. Because people have life to do. They can't keep worrying about your sadness.

"Tomorrow I'm leaving again." I whisper, scared that saying it too loud would scare her away. "And I just ... I want you to know that."

She swallows her worry away. She's so troubled that it hurts. A minute passes. Sixty seconds of purity and love. Her skin against mine is the way God intended us to spend our nights. My fingers keep stroking her hair. She smells like candy. I'm anxious, because tomorrow I'll be gone and she'll be left all alone again - and there's absolutely nothing I can do about that. And the fear of a distraught and lonely Brittany is something I can't process. She can't be alone right now. Not in this state. My heart bleeds as the words formulate in my mind, but they are truthful and logical. They are wise - something I hate to admit.

"You can be with Hanna if you want to." I finally tell her, in a trembling voice.

When I tilt my head to see what she's doing, I find her asleep on top of my breast. A smile captures my face, because she's too adorable to do anything else. My free hand grabs the sheets we lost ten minutes ago and drapes them over our naked bodies.

"Goodnight, Brittany." I whisper.

* * *

When I wake up, the memory of last night is extremely blurry. I find myself being naked and quickly gather that it wasn't a dream after all. But my freshly opened eyes don't see her lying next to me. She's no longer in my bed. The second I turn my sleepy head to the left, I recognize her perfect ass walking out of my room. She disappears behind the white door, carrying her shoes in one hand. I don't say her name, I just crawl out of bed and see her close the door behind her. I wrap my sheets around my body and run to the door. But as I put my fingers on the doorknob, I hear my father calling her name out loud in the middle of the hallway. I immediately start to panic and hold my breath.

_Oh, my God, he just witnessed the blonde's walk of shame. _

_Oh, my God, he just found out that I had sex last night._

_Oh, my God, I can NEVER leave this room again. _

I put my hand in front of my face and decide to not enter that hallway wearing nothing more than the sheets that smell like lesbian sex. I'm pretty sure it'd be embarrassing and I've got enough to process for the day. Brittany greets my old man in a friendly voice. They've always liked each other a lot. Even _after_ she started fucking and _lezzing_ me up.

"How are you? We haven't seen you here in a while."

Smart man, that father of mine, but not when it comes to keeping his nose out of my love life.

"Yeah, things are ... pretty intense right now, between Santana and me." she honestly admits.

"But you - um ... You slept here last night, right?" a hesitant voice reaches my ears.

I'm about to hit my head against the wall. _Dad, you did not just ask her that_. I put my forehead against the hard wood and sigh.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I wasn't ... I just ... I just needed to see Santana. I miss her." is her soft response that nearly breaks my heart.

I catch my breath and close my eyes. My body relaxes entirely. This makes it all okay.

"I miss your daughter a lot." she emphasizes.

She means it. Never in her life has she been this truthful about her feelings. My brave, troubled Brittany. My precious unicorn. Tears fill my eyes after hearing the shy words, while a heartbroken expressing takes over my face. I swallow and suppress the need to run into the hallway and kiss her. _Still naked, Santana. Still daddy-unfriendly._

My father has something to tell her, though.

"Brittany, if you ever fight with my daughter again ..."

He kind of makes it sound like a threat, but he would never threat anyone. Except the pizza boy, because he keeps staring at my mother's boobs. He threatened to get him fired last week, actually. But certainly not Brittany. Even after all the shit she's put me through - in his eyes. Look at _me_, even _I_ can't be mean to her.

"... please don't make her skip off to Atlanta again. Because I miss her, too, you know."

I hear the relieved smile in her voice when she answers: "I promise."

There's a few silent seconds before he picks up the conversation again and wishes her a good afternoon.

"See you soon, Doc." she tells him.

She always calls him Doc. He claims to hate it, but I know he secretly loves the nickname. Then, she's gone. I'm alone again. My feet bring me back to my warm bed and I fall down on my stomach. I have no idea what to think of this.

* * *

I texted her that I'm getting on a plane around three p.m. It's two fifty three and she still hasn't called or texted me back. I'm not sure what to make of it. Maybe she's mad - maybe she just can't handle another goodbye. I get it. I'd be the same, probably. I sigh deeply and stare at the gate in front of me. A lot of people are waiting to board the plane. They are unfriendly and grumpy. Kind of my people, when you think of it. A lady in front of me is yanking her little son at his sleeve because he won't stop whining. I'm happy to slap the little brat with my laptop bag for her, if she'd only suggest. When a hand grabs my upper arm, I turn around with an angry frown to confront the hasty and impatient passenger with my most precious Lima words. Part of me is convinced he/she trying to steal my laptop. But I discover a face that's way too familiar.

"Brittany!"

A blonde with freckles and soft, pink lipes smiles confidently and pulls me out of the line. _Dammit, I've been waiting there for ten minutes already. _Some people frown as they clearly don't appreciate the rumor.

"What are you doing here? You can't be here! I'm not even sure it's legal ..."

I turn around to see how the hell she made it all the way to the gate. She points out two security women - and they wave at me like loyal slaves. I turn my head with mouth agape and find her proud face.

"They met each other here, three years ago on their first day at work. They fell in love a week later. I told them about us and how I needed to see you before you left. I guess they are fools for love."

She winks at the two ladies, who are the newest victims of the famous Brittany-charm. I'm not sure what this is about. The only thing I do know is that my plane leaves in a couple of minutes. Passing, giggly girls make me look at them.

"Hey, listen." she says to draw my attention.

I wink two times and readjust the heavy bag leaning on my shoulder.

"I heard what you said last night, Santana. About Hanna. How I should be with her."

I nod, because secretly, I wished she hadn't in her sleep. She steps up to me and grabs my hand. This is weird. She made such an effort to tell me about that girlfriend of hers?

I shrug as if I don't care, but my question tells differently: "Are you still seeing that Hanna girl?"

She's being kind of numb when she answers: "Not if you don't want me to."

Great, so this one's on me? I'm the one that'll get to decide. A deep sigh leaves my mouth and I stare at my feet for a couple of seconds._ Can I be this selfish?_

"I don't want you to." I finally admit.

_Apparently, I can._

When I look back up to her, she's softly smiling: "Then it's done."

A short shrug, like it doesn't mean a thing to her. I'm confused. She can tell by the way I frown deeply.

"I broke it off with her a couple of days ago already, but I didn't tell you."

Not sure if I should be happy or angry about that fact: "Why not?"

She lifts her shoulders to make an apology: "You didn't ask."

I smile, because she's not lying. I guess she's right.

"So why are you here? To tell me this? Did you come to say goodbye?" I ask her, softly, as I search the crowd for curious looks.

She puts another step towards me and bites her bottom lip.

"I don't want to say goodbye to you ever again, San. But I also know that we can't just dive back in, like it used to be. We should at least go on one date, don't you think?"

I smirk and tilt my head: "A _date_? Really?"

She's absolutely serious about it. Her fingers play around with mine and my resistance has hit the zero point already. But a loud sound brings me back to the real world, happening in this airport.

"The thing is, Brittany: I'm leaving. I need to be on this plane in, like ..."

I peak at my watch.

"Five minutes."

A stewardess grabs the microphone in the little cabinet in front of the gate. She reads the flight number out loud and asks for the last passengers to check in. A look over my shoulders confirms that I'm the last one here. I feel my laptop bag on my shoulder, but it's like the weight of the world has found a place inside of it. I let go of her hand and turn around to walk towards the woman, to ask for a couple more minutes. Silly idea, but I can try, right?

"The thing is -"

Brittany grabs my hand again and makes me face her. I see fierceness in her eyes, a thing you rarely witness with this girl. I put up my index finger to the stewardess to make her wait.

"The thing with planes is, it'll take off without you too. You don't _have_ to board it, if you don't really want to."

"Why wouldn't I want to board it?" I ask all tired, completely aware of the perfect answer to that.

She stares into my eyes with those baby blue deer eyes. A deep swallow runs through her throat.

"Because I'm asking you."

She shakes her head and bites her lower lip: "No, I'm not just asking you, I'm begging you. If you don't stay now, I'm not sure if we can ever fix things again."

My heartbeat slows down as I see the emotions taking over her entire existence. This is the Brittany I've always wanted to see. The pure, honest and loving Brittany. I open my mouth, but words fail to come out. I don't know what to say. As I look behind me, the stewardess is nervously tapping her foot. She's pointing at the door, making it clear I don't have any time left. The woman looks pretty, but don't all stewardesses look pretty?

"Are you coming, Miss?" she asks me.

My eyes find their way back to an anxious Brittany, who's nervously holding on to my hand. Her palms are sweaty, like this is the hardest thing she ever did. I take a deep sigh and look at the plane ticket sticking out of my laptop bag. Flight to Atlanta. One way ticket. Back to Marley - back to work, back to all the things I've worked so hard for. Just like I once promised Gramps.

I open my mouth again and think about the decision I'm about to make. My eyes close, and I feel my heart making a painful stop as I'm thinking what I'm going to say, because I can't look at her while I'm softly uttering the words: "Brittany ..."

* * *

**Well, guys? What do you think? **

**Liked the chapter? Will Santana stay or will she go back to work? **


	30. DAY 446 - The first date

**DAY 446 - The first date**

"So, we're not _officially_ back together?" I ask her as I open the restaurant door for her to walk in. You know - like a _real_ lady.

She shakes her head completely sure about that: "No, we haven't had our first date yet, remember?"

I nod doubtfully and see her walk in. _You, weird, crazy girl. _She made reservations even before I agreed to tag along with her. I guess she's really happy that I took her offer to stay in Lima, yesterday, at the airport. I was hesitating, yesterday, because I didn't know how to tell her that I was scared. Yeah, I was _mortified_.

I said her name in the warm and crowded hallway: "Brittany."

And every little muscle in my body started shaking because I didn't have a single idea how to tell her what was about to be said.

"I don't know if I can."

She frowned - basically couldn't believe what I said and shook her head completely devastated.

"What do you mean?" she said with a trembling voice.

I looked away from her and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Staying here is the only thing I want to do, Britts. I don't want to get on that stupid plane. No, I want a life here, with you, just like before. But I'm ... scared, Brittany."

It was the hardest thing I ever said, because admitting to be afraid is not something a Lopez simply does. She looked at me with confused eyes and put her hand on my cheek, as if it was to ask for a further explanation.

"I'm scared that I'll never find a way to make it up to you. I'm scared that you'll never forgive me. I'm scared that you resent me - that somewhere deep inside, you might never love me as much as you did before. I hurt you terribly, no matter what the reason behind it was, and I need to fix it. And I don't know how."

I started crying, because of the hurt and the pain and the shame. Brittany didn't protest - she didn't deny that I might actually still had to make up for something, but on the other hand: that didn't matter at that time.

"Don't worry, Santana. As long as you stay, we can work on that. If you leave, it won't fix anything."

Right there and right then, I realized she was right. So I turned around to tell the pretty girl that my hot, gorgeous girlfriend didn't want me to get on that plane. And I didn't. And It was the best decision I ever made.

But now we have this date going on. And Brittany's quite sure of her plan. We need to date at least once before I can officially call her my girlfriend again. A date. A dinner. A restaurant. I'm not too sure about it, to tell you the truth. Because we were never at a point in our relationship where we were able to behave - and not rip each other's clothes of each other. But hey, I guess we're trying. _Brittany-ism to the core_.

"Come on." she urges as I'm hesitating before we sit down at the fancy table.

I witness her excited face and smirk.

"Let's pretend this is a good idea before I change my mind." I tell her.

We have a nice dinner. We talk and chat about the family, about how awesome Gramps was - she's still hurting a lot, I can tell - and about how Alex' being ignored by the entire family lately. We seem to find that extremely amusing. I keep staring at her breasts, though. She's wearing a dress that isn't helping me to keep my mind on serious things, actually. It's a pretty blue cocktail dress. I'm wearing a red one. You'd think we're such ladies, if you'd see us.

But out of nowhere, she suddenly leans across the table and grabs my hand. I look up, completely satisfied about that action and feel like that wuss I always am around her again.

"Santana, you need to explain something to me, though. What the hell is an unofficial break up? You should really clarify that for me."

I grin, because even I don't have a clue. She keeps bringing it up, actually, sort of to tease me: "I don't know, Britt. I thought we could _pause_ whatever we had. We could ... wait for a couple of months with whatever we were doing and pick it up when I came back."

She's very skeptical about that: "You really did?"

I nod, because it turns out that I was foolish enough to believe that it made sense back then. The look in her eyes tells me that she clearly disagrees.

"I was wrong, Brittany. You moved on and you met this girl and she's a very good catch. She's a great girl. I just left and took every chance to ever get you back with me. I'm sorry about that."

She shrugs: "It doesn't matter. I meant whatever I said: Hanna was a rebound, babe."

_Again, 'babe'!_ I smile about that word. She doesn't notice.

"We're endgame, you must know that?" she smirks as she sips her glass of wine.

I almost choke in my drink: "Endgame?"

That's an absurd word people like Berry use. A vicious smile almost ridicules her words, but her attitude's not affected by that.

"Endgame, just like in the best stories."

After all this time, she still believes in fairytales. I almost get lost in her stare as we're just sitting down at the table. We have some wine, chitchat about the company and go through the last events of the week, before I become very aware of our teenage crush behavior. She's flirting with me like a professional lesbian again. I must snap out of it.

"Let's order, Britts."

She nods. I have a look at the menu and almost spit out my drink when I notice the prizes.

"Oh, my God, Brittany. Have you seen how expensive this place is?"

She nods and clearly doesn't care. Sure, it's easy when you were born rich.

"Don't worry, I'm paying, Santana."

I frown because I'm kind of offended. I used pay for the both of us, to make up for the fact that I stayed at her place all the time. And it's just ... my dominant nature tells me to - like I want to take care of her.

"No, you're not." I protest.

She slaps me on the hand childishly and pinches her eyes a little bit to make me listen: "Shut up. I wanted this date, I picked the restaurant. So I'm paying."

Before I can even try to react again, a waiter interrupts us, holding a little notebook and a green pen in his hands.

"Oh, look at the two of you, all nicely dresses up. You look like twins!" he tells us, completely enchanted by our appearances.

It makes me grin massively, because if only he knew the truth. Brittany studies the both of us with a gentle look in her eyes and nods.

"I guess we do look like twins. Except we have a different skin color. And our hair's not even remotely the same. Oh, and we have awesome lesbian sex with each other. But apart from that, yeah, we look like twins, don't we, babe?"

She's not even trying to ridicule the person in front of us, she really isn't. It's natural Brittany behavior. In an attempt to act like the last thing she said never happened, I take the wine glass next to my hand and have a long drink. The waiter's just standing there, not entirely sure what just went down and tabs the tip of the pen a couple of times against the notebook.

"I'll have the salmon and the lobster, please." I politely say with an embarrassed undertone, trying to start fresh.

He nods nervously and writes it down. His eyes travel all the way to my girlfriend, who hasn't got a clue.

"I'm ... Uhm."

Brittany studies the menu a little bit further.

"Shrimps. And then the lobster as well, please. And that third bottle of wine on the menu. The French one."

The guy takes the menu cards away from us and leaves with a faint smile.

"He's nice, isn't he?" Brittany asks me. "A bit weird, though."

I smile, because she has no idea what _being weird_ means.

* * *

"I want to touch you." she suddenly confesses after two appetizers and four glasses of wine.

She just licked the shrimp juice off her fingers in a teasing way. _Oh, yeah, I saw it._ Without analyzing her request, I offer her my hand. But her mischievous smile tells me it's not the appropriate reaction.

"Not there ..." she confesses all naughty.

I grin and lick my lower lip with pleasureful surprise.

"Oh." I whisper, while raising an eyebrow.

But after a couple of seconds, she caresses the top of my hand with her fragile fingers anyway. Like she's fascinated by the color of my skin and the length of my digits, her eyes can't let go of the sight. I hold my breath as she does, because my body stops functioning when she touches me. This is heaven.

"Remember when you wouldn't even let me do this in public?"

She's fully cupping my hand right now. The touch is making me weaker by the second. Of course I remember. It was when we first started dating. And Jacob couldn't know about it. But at the same time, it was a good enough excuse to hide my feelings for the rest of the world as well. Because being a lesbian wasn't something that I grew up with. It was new and kind of scary, because Brittany's sexual behavior before we ended up together has always been scary to me. My mom had no idea about my possible lesbianism - if that's even a word. It only took, like, a week or two to get over it, but she's right: there was one night, at BreadstiX, where I wouldn't let her touch me. We had spent many days and many sleepless nights in her bedroom, sleeping, kissing, fucking - we knew every little part of each other's body and the way we screamed and moaned when we climaxed. But her holding my hand in public was way too intimate. What if people looked at us, what if they knew? What if they would've told Jacob? What if someone would've told my mother before I had the courage? So, in order to keep the risk low and the damage minimal, she held my hand under a napkin. It was ridiculous, but better than nothing. And she rubbed my thumb until it seemed like a natural movement. That's how we had dinner that night. Uncomfortable times twenty, but sweet times hundred. And I never forgot that night, because she finally called me her girlfriend at the end of our meal.

* * *

"We're not back together?" I ask after we've been staring at each other for about twenty minutes - silently, though speaking through our eyes.

She shakes her head and breaks the sexual tension: "No, we're not. Not back together."

I nod, as if I understand her.

"Totally not back together." I repeat, while sighing through a mischievous smile.

She nods as well. We get up from the table and leave through the front door. She has her driver somewhere around, waiting to pick us up. He's a patient man. I couldn't do it for the love of God: waiting for two chicks until they're ready figuring their shit out. He can. He's awesome.

"Not together." I sigh again, as I breathe in the breeze that's taking over the dark night in front of us. She's not changing her attitude. But there's a tension. There's an atmosphere that's unnatural. Like it's inviting me to grab her clothes and rip them off her body. I inhale - I exhale. The loose position of her arms - of her hands - make the top of her fingers touch mine as we're standing in front of the entrance of the restaurant._ Not together, Santana. You heard the girl_. She's staring into my eyes and I recognize the look. It's a wanting one, a curious and confused one. My eyes find her lips. Then they go back up to her perfect, blue eyes. Another second passes and I grab the back of her head to pull her against me. Our lips meet and she heaves a sigh to release all the frustration from her body. Her tongue licks mine and my knees start to feel week immediately. My breath fills her mouth and I can relax again.

"Not together." she repeats my words, panting.

I smirk and feel how her hands start to caress the skin beneath my dress. She's near my thighs now. God, I feel the excitement burning between my legs. But this is a rather crowded place. Sure, there's no one around at this very moment, but someone could come by any second.

"Let's go home." she proposes.

I whisper through my heated respiration: "Yours or mine?"

She cups my cheeks and pushes me back a little bit, so my lips finally separate hers. I recognize that look in her eyes. It's the one that makes me feel like everything's okay. Like there's a world war in the near future, but we have nothing to fear, because innocent and sweet Brittany lives in a fairytale world where we can go hide. And I don't care if she'll pick my flat in Atlanta, or my little, small room at my parents', or her massive mansion, I'm okay with any of them.

"Ours." she tells me.

I know exactly what that means. It's her house, where we've lived for months. Where we baked cakes in the middle of the night. Where we stumbled inside of the bedroom all drunk and intoxicated after parties. Where we really fell in love.

* * *

She made me come three times in a row. The first time, she had me pushed against the wall - still fully clothed. The second time, I sat on her face on the couch - only wearing a bra. And the last time, she looked into my eyes as she lay on top of me - we were both naked. It was so intimate that I nearly started to cry.

We're one again - just like before. I can feel it. No more secrets, no more lies. We are what we are - 'Brittana', like Rachel once called us. She likes to make a game out of everything, including names. She once called Finn and herself 'Finchel' and it almost made me puke. I wonder what her crazy name for Fabray and her is. Oh, God, I don't even want to think about it.

She stares at me with eyes as clear as crystals. One more sound and this tension might break them. But I'm willing to take the chance.

"I'm glad I stayed. I think I'm even glad that I left all those months ago. I can feel things have changed. We've changed - for the better."

She silently nods and allows her little pinky to stroke the loose hairs hanging down my shoulders. Britts' looking happy. She has a relaxed look in her eyes, which reminds me of yesterday. When I told the stewardess that I couldn't get on the plane and Brittany stared at me as if she just discovered a SpongeBob Squarepants marathon on Nickelodeon.

"Look at that." she told me as we left the airport, hand in hand.

I pointed towards the stars. It was a nice and warm evening. We watched as a shooting star passed.

"Isn't that beautiful?" I whispered, surprised by the magic of nature.

She grinned while facing me: "_You_ are beautiful."

I blushed. Such a sweet thing to say.

"How long will you be here?" she asked me nervously.

I wasn't sure if I'd eventually go back to Atlanta or not. Maybe she wanted to come with me? Maybe I should just stay in Lima for good. I just knew that I couldn't leave things unfinished. I had made a big success out of a simple office back there. And I'll forever be too much of a proud person to never look back. Certainly since the entire responsibility of the sex toys line was resting on my shoulders.

I shrugged: "A week. Maybe two. Depends ..."

She was surprised by my answer.

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on whether you kiss me or not."

It was her time to blush after that. A cold wind passed our bodies.

"Would you let me?" she childishly wondered out loud.

It took a second to sink in. I thought I would. She read it in my eyes. Her head approached mine and I finally felt her lips on mine. A hidden smile appears.

"So, how long will you be here?" she asked, after the tender touch ended.

I smirked and rubbed my nose against hers lovingly. I knew the answer to that right after that intimate kiss.

"If you want, forever."

Her eyes softened up and a satisfied attitude took over her tensed, stressed body: "I want forever."

I nodded and made it seem like it was a done deal.

"Okay. Then I'll stay forever."

And now here we are, naked on the floor. Exhausted. In love.

"I'm glad you stayed." she whispers, like it's to affirm my previous comment.

Her blond hairs are covering the blanket we're on. I smile and close my eyes as I lovingly kiss her on the lips. Butterflies fill my entire stomach and it feel like I'm getting light in the head. She licks her lips as we part.

"And for the record, if you ever dare to leave again, I will kick your ass, no matter how dominant and aggressive you may be." she threatens with a whisper.

I believe her. Especially after what she did to her uncle the other day. I claw my fingers around Brittany's neck to pull her close. Our lips touch and it might just be the best feeling in the world. We have waited months for this, the both of us. She's mine again.

* * *

**The thing is, I wanted to post and update a couple of days ago. But as we all know, Cory Monteith passed away and it didn't seem appropriate.**

**I always hated Finn Hudson, just like 99% of all the Brittana fans, I guess, but I knew that Cory was a nice and good guy and he'll be missed - for sure.**

**But anyways, what did you guys think? ;-)**


	31. DAY 455 - Quinn's birthday party

**updating time ! **

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**DAY 455 - Quinn's birthday party**

My favorite _bestie_ in the world - apart from my baby Britts of course - is getting old. It's Miss Fabray's birthday today and only the Hobbit herself could come up with an appropriate party to celebrate the fact that we're still alive to see that happen. I'm dressed in a skin tight, leather dress - just long enough to cover my ass, and I pulled my hair back into a neat ponytail. Red lipstick is accentuating my pouty lips. Brittany seems to appreciate my look, since she hasn't stopped teasing me by putting her hand underneath my dress ever since we left the house. I warned her in the limousine that if she wouldn't stop once we'd arrive at the party, she'd get cut off for three days. That did the trick.

I look down and find my fingers being attached to the most beautiful girl in this joint. Brittany put on a loose, blue dress, with aquarium fishes on it. It's damn adorable, especially with that tie in her hair, which makes her look like a innocent, pretty girl.

We find Quinn standing right next to Rachel - surprise, surprise! - at the end of the room, accepting gifts and birthday wishes. She looks happy with all of it. When she notices us, she runs over to wrap her arms around us lovingly.

"You guys! I'm so glad you came."

I smirk and try to get out of her massively, pinching grip: "Why the hell would we want to miss this, Fabray?"

Brittany brings her head closer to mine and softly whispers in my ear: "Be nice. It's her birthday."

In my purse, there's a present I bought for her a couple of hours ago. I'm not good at any of this, really. Brittany helped me pick. Quinn unwraps the package at a massive speed - I guess she's just really excited. Two diamond earrings appear when the little, black box opens and it makes her pretty jaw drop.

"Yep, exactly what I was going for. A speechless Fabray." I inform Brittany completely confident. "Rarely happens. Like seeing a sober Charlie Sheen."

She softly pokes me in order to stop talking. Quinn just stands there, staring at the beautiful jewelry.

"Oh, my God, this is beautiful!" she stutters.

_Hell yeah, it is! _

"Look. Britts and I appreciate what a loyal friend you are, Fabray. You've really helped us both the last couple of months. I realize it couldn't have been fun for you. But you were there anyway, to listen to all the crying and the boring and desperate talks. So ..."

I point at the little box: "Thank you. From both of us."

The girl in front of us just nods, without saying a word. She puts one finger under her left eye to catch some appearing tears. I can tell she's really happy. My attitude softens up all of a sudden. I'm kind of touched by the way she remains completely overwhelmed and speechless. Quinn's my oldest friend, really. I can't imagine a life where she's not part of. Brittany's fingers are still entwined in mine, but the tips of them seem to stroke along my thigh. The second she's moving them upwards, I slap them away and give her a vicious, warning look for free as well.

"Stop it!" I hiss, as if no one can hear us. "Come on, let's get a drink. You need to cool off."

She stares at her feet as we make our way across the dancing crowd and mysteriously chuckles.

"I could cool off in a shower ... with you."

My hand pinches the fragile fingers in its grip - a second warning - and she smiles out loud, a little bit in pain. She can't help herself, she _really_ can't.

"I'm sorry, but you're just so freaking sexy, Santana Lopez. Look at you, dressed in nothing more than an oversized napkin and some fuck me boots."

As I raise my hand to draw the barkeeper's attention, I face her with sincere doubt in my eyes: "An oversized napkin? Really?"

She puts her hand on my ass, and I'm totally okay with that, while I order some drinks. She takes a sip, then another one, then it's time to softly kiss me on the cheek. A big smile appears, because she's so damn cute.

"I love you, Britts."

She nods childishly: "I know that."

We simultaneously look over to the part of the room where Rachel and Quinn seem to be talking about the beauty of the earrings we just gave her. Berry's helping her to put them on. I must say, it _are_ fantastic diamonds. I almost wanted to keep them for myself. Brittany wouldn't let me. As I hand the bartender some money for our cocktails, the weird duo draws my attention once more. The Hobbit is complementing Quinn, about how great the earrings look on her. I can tell by the way she's smiling and rubbing Quinn along the lengths of her bare arms. Quinn looks shy, though, like's she overwhelmed by the kind words and the loving stare of her friend. Out of nowhere, she bends forward and she puts her lips firmly on Rachel's. My jaw drops - even worse: I almost drop my drink. Brittany puts her fingers on my shoulder to draw my attention, but - man - I've already spotted it. Can't say I saw this one coming, to be honest.

The kiss lasts for a while. Twelve seconds to be exact. I've counted the obnoxious time it took me to control that vomit all the way down my stomach to appear.

"I knew it!" Brittany numbly utters, too surprised to make another sound come through.

I turn around and have another draught of my drink.

"Disgusting." I reply, while making a face. "Gay Fabray meets Jew Hobbit."

Brittany has an amused laugh about it, but then the music changes and it's like it's alerting her: "I'm about to go on stage."

Oh, right, she has a surprise act ready for this party. She practiced with Mike. I couldn't watch, because that would ruin the effect, she told me. How she still seems to find the time and passion to dance, even though she's so busy with the company nowadays, it's a mystery.

"I'll see you in a second, okay? I'm going to get ready for Quinn's surprise."

"Oh, I think Quinn got her surprise already!" I ensure her.

She leaves me speechless with a soft peck on my lips. I close my eyes to remember the touch for a second, until Quinn shakes me out of my fantasy by poking me against the shoulder. How the hell did she get over here so fast?

"God, the two of you have transformed back to your obnoxious selves." she complains.

I frown and cross my arms because she's the one to tell. She's very lucky this is her birthday party tonight, or I'd slap her. A hesitant couple of seconds pass before she finally faces me again: "I like it. I've missed the two of you together."

I'm intrigued, because of course she would tease me with all of it.

"Besides, that Hanna had no game." she confesses arrogantly, as she puts her cocktail glass against mine.

I nod: "Truth!"

We both take a big sip and smile contently.

"So has Brittany spoken to her after all of this?"

_Curious Quinn._

I shake my head: "She hasn't. Not that I won't let her, she's just not ... I don't know. There's nothing left to say, I guess."

Quinn nods silently and looks away. A vicious smile takes over my face though, and she notices.

"What?"

"Well, I ran into that Hanna girl myself, the other day, actually." I confess.

She frowns and turns her head a bit to the side: "Oh, my God, what did she say?"

_Curious, curious Quinn. _

"I don't know." I shrug truthfully. "I was too busy chanting Brittany's name in her face, so I didn't hear a word of what she said."

Quinn bursts out with laughter and pats me on the back: "You're terrible, Santana."

I nod, self-aware and proud of it: "I am. And still, everybody seems to love me anyway."

My friend suddenly switches behavior when she sees somebody waving across the room. It's near the stage, where a big curtain is covering whatever it is that's about to come next.

"Uhm - Santana. Would you like to sing a song for me on my birthday?" she nervously asks.

I put down the glass on top of the bar and raise my left eyebrow judgmentally: "What now?"

She entwines her hands and does the pleading act: "Pretty, pretty please?"

I smack my lips and have a look around. Brittany's nowhere to be found. She's probably getting ready for her secret dance.

"I don't know, Fabray. I have a feeling that something else's about to happen."

She acts all surprised: "What are you talking about? A surprise?"

I shrug and nod: "Probably. Must be Rachel. You know, that big lips, girl kissing, drama loving, gay showing, Quinn loving Hobbit from a minute ago?"

Pretty impressed by my description, she feels caught, because her cheeks turn red and she's afraid to look me in the eyes.

"So I guess you saw that, huh?"

I nod with a content smirk coloring my face.

"It's not what you think it is, Santana. Now get on that stage and sing a freaking song for me."

She grabs me by the hand and drags me all the way through the dancing crowd. I apologize every time I accidentally bump into one of them. _Oh, hey, there's Finn! Still looking painfully, mentally castrated by his ex-girlfriend's girl on girl peck he just witnessed a minute ago._

Quinn spares no effort while she's pulling me up on the stage. One of the front curtains opens and a mic stand appears. The crowd goes silent, because Quinn is waving her hands to call for attention._ Oh, God. This is embarrassing_.

"Hi! Hi! Excuse me, everyone. Hi."

The music goes dead. She got what she wanted. I shake my head, because I didn't count on this to happen.

"Thanks! Okay, so ... This one right here is Santana Lopez, my oldest, hottest, most loyal, most vicious and most skilled at backstabbing friend ever."

I take a little bow to thank her for the kind words. She knew I would appreciate it.

"And not many people know this, but she's an awesome singer. Pretty gay as well, but hey ... Anyways, she has an amazing voice and she agreed to sing me a little birthday song." Quinn continues proudly.

I shake my head and raise my voice: "She made me, really. Sing, I mean, not gay."

A couple of people in the front start laughing. Quinn ignores that little fact and drags the mic stand in front of me.

"Can someone please bring her a mic?" she yells to the side of the stage with a big smile on her face. It's dark in there. Too dark to see. Someone's calling my name in the crowd and as I turn around to see who it is, a person covered in a black blanket jumps on stage, carrying a chair. A big frown takes over my face: I don't need a freaking chair, I need a mic. I shade my eyes to spy my parents, who just walked in. They're the ones who called me. They seemed to have carpooled or something with Brittany's mom and dad, because they're all together. I had no clue they'd be here. Berry didn't tell me she invited them. _Great, now my mom's going to hear me sing and from now on, I'll have to do it on every freaking Latino gathering. _The person on my right, though, the one covered in black, suddenly pushes me down on the chair and I'm enormously offended.

"Excuse me?" I utter, struck by surprised.

The blanket gets taken away and I recognize the remarkably stunning face of Brittany instantly.

"Brittany?" I say, unaware what to expect. "What are you doing?"

She's wearing a sparkling, black ... bikini, I guess. It has little fake diamonds attached to the top and, I must say, it's breathtakingly beautiful on her body. She notices how distraught I am, though, because she puts a soft kiss on my lips and smiles the sweetest smile.

"Don't hold it against me." she winks.

Suddenly, there's music and it takes me a second to recognize the song. Britney freaking Spears. _Oh, God, she's doing Britney Spears. _My jaw drops, since she's positioning her perfect, almost naked body right on my lap as the first hard beats disappear throughout the room. Everyone's cheering and yelling at us, the crowd seems to be excited already. I have weird friends.

"Brittany ..." I try to reach her, but she puts a finger on my mouth and makes me shut up.

The lyrics will start, I know the song by heart. To my surprise, she opens her mouth. She's going to sing this?

_"Hey, over there,_

_Please forgive me,_

_If I'm comin' on too strong"_

She wiggles her ass on my lap like it's the most natural thing in the world. It is, when we're at home, alone and undisturbed, you know. Not when we're in public and my best friends are around. But her face is very strict and professional. This _is_ an actual performance of her, I guess.

_"Hate to stare,_

_But you're winnin',_

_And they're playin' my favorite song"_

She winks again as she gets on her feet to place her crotch right in front of my face. I swallow. This is not what I expected from a Quinn birthday party. But I oddly like it. She wiggles her perfect butt all the way down again.

_"So come here,_

_Little closer,_

_Wanna whisper in your ear,_

_Make it clear,_

_Little question,_

_Wanna know just how you feel"_

She smiles a naughty smile and swirls around the chair I'm sitting on, sweeping a couple of fingers over my shoulders. Her body drops down to the ground as she appears in front of me again. I see all her muscles moving at the same time. Her upper body gets thrown behind and with her eyes closed, she's facing the crowd upside down. I can't move, really. I'm just sitting here, surprised as hell, mouth agape - acting like I'm getting some sort of lap dance.

_"If I said my heart was beating loud,_

_If we could escape the crowd somehow_

_If I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?"_

She has made an awesome flip to land on her feet and is now dancing around the stage, keeping her main focus on me. It's only now that I realize how terribly cute this entire thing is. She practiced a dance for me - to perform in front of all of our friends. Well, the Hobbit, Quinn and _her_ friends. Her teasing body makes classy, enchanting movements to get closer to me again. I blush - oh, dear God, I'm blushing over my own girlfriend. She takes a seat on my lap and puts her index finger against my cheek. It slowly slips down, until it reaches my lips. Then suddenly, it falls down to my cleavage and I start to smile.

_"Cause you, _

_Feel like paradise_

_And I need a vacation tonight,_

_So if I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?"_

She puts a brief kiss on my lips and before I realize what she's doing, she has jumped off my lap again. I can't follow this act, it's mindblowingly fast and intense. Her perfect body is already starting to sweat like crazy. It's sexy, let me tell you! Those little bikini panties are like, really, really revealing.

_"Hey, you might think,_

_That I'm crazy,_

_But you know I'm just your type_

_I might be,_

_Little hazy,_

_But you just cannot deny"_

With one foot in front of the other one, she's shaking her butt like it's the most natural thing in the world. Then, she rolls her upper body so her breasts pop out majestically. _Awesome move, Britts. _I'm completely starting to enjoy this trip right now, so my shoulders start to dance to the beat a little bit.

_"There's a spark,_

_In between us,_

_When we're dancin on the floor,_

_I want more, Want to see it,_

_So I'm asking you tonight"_

She walks away from me to approach the front of the stage. I see every single person in the crowd dancing and cheering. She's an awesome artist. Born to do this. She drops to the ground, so sudden that for a second, I wonder if she hurt herself. But my girlfriend's fine. She's done this a million times before. She pushes her lower body off the black carpet with her feet and thrusts her core up and down to the beat of the song. I put one hand in front of my eyes, because I can only imagine how people will start to think about our sex life from now on. Still, I can't stop myself from smiling adorably.

_"If I said my heart was beating loud,_

_If we could escape the crowd somehow_

_If I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?_

_Cause you, _

_Feel like paradise_

_And I need a vacation tonight,_

_So if I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?_

_If I said I want your body... Would you hold it against me?"_

It's like dancing is more normal than walking to her. She just absorbs everyone's attention and claims the entire stage and there's not a single fuck given. Brittany can do whatever she wants, with that passion and talent and that banging body. As I'm dreaming of taking that little suit home with us tonight, she aims her lingering look at me. Her little, provocative passes guide her to me. I'm still on that damn chair. Britts turns her face away from me, so all I can see is her butt. I'm not complaining, though. She bends her knees teasingly slow, until the flesh of her ass is positioned on top of me. I feel how she uses one leg to make her entire middle move. It's arousing me, just like she probably planned.

_"Give me something good,_

_Don't want to wait, I want it now_

_Pop it like a hood,_

_And show me how you work it out"_

To turn around, she doesn't just get up to straddle me, no, she remains positioned, throws one leg up in the air and - at the same time - twists her entire perfection. Her feet pass over my head - inches away from hitting me - and when she realizes that I kind of got scared for a second, she smiles a loving smile. I sigh deeply and look at her with approving eyes.

"_Alright." _she sings with a little crack in her voice.

_"If I said my heart was beating loud_

_If I said I want your body now_

_Would you hold it against me?"_

I nod, because I wouldn't. She seems to appreciate the response and rolls her shoulders to expose her beautiful twins to me. Her upper body falls behind, and like she's about to drop off the chair, she stretches out her arms to do a move she once called a back walkover. When she's up on her feet again, her feet semi-moonwalk her over the stage like she learned to do so before she started walking. This girl is magical.

_"If I said my heart was beating loud,_

_If we could escape the crowd somehow_

_If I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?"_

She throws one arm up in the air to stretch her entire body. Then she turns around, while her legs get tangled - which make her drop to the floor. She raises her head with her arms widely spread - and looks at me with a naughty smile. She's sweating. Of course she is, this is hardcore working out.

_"Cause you, _

_Feel like paradise_

_And I need a vacation tonight,_

_So if I said I want your body now,_

_Would you hold it against me?"_

An aerial - a no handed cartwheel as I know it - lands her right in front of me. She puts one feet up between my legs and with a last wiggle of her perfect ass, the music stops. It's dead silent in the room for a second and all I can hear is her heavy panting. I'm not even smiling anymore, right now. All I can do is stare at her abs and her breasts and her perfect face and be impressed with whatever she just pulled off. All of a sudden, everyone in the room starts to clap their hands. The sounds nearly deafens me. They are massively enthusiastic about the performance and Quinn and Rachel are in the front row, screaming her name. Brittany puts her foot down again and turns around to accept the applause with a shy smile. I finally snap out of my fantasy world and get up to pull her over to me and kiss her on the lips. Her sweaty face tastes salty, and it's the best thing ever. I feel how her lips are making a smile.

"You are absolutely crazy, Brittany S. Pierce!" I tell her after I'm done demonstrating my excitement.

She clenches her teeth to smile like a goofball and nods: "Crazy about you."

But there's something way too hilarious about all of this really and it suddenly hits me. I chuckle and snort with laughter as I try tell her what's on my mind. She's just standing there, wondering why the hell I'm acting this hysterical. I can't seem to utter the words for a couple of seconds.

"You just did that whole thing in front of our parents, Britts." I finally tell her.

My ridiculing smile quickly guides her look across the room. As soon as she finds my relatively conservative parents and her somehow nerdy folks, the expression on her face changes.

"Oh, God." she utters, as she's suddenly starting to disappear behind me - in order to cover up her half naked body.

There's nothing much I can do besides laughing. I put my arms behind my back to grab her in my embrace and guide her off the stage with a smile that could last for days.

"Santana!" she pouts.

Some robe is covering up her half-naked body. She's grumpy that I didn't tell her sooner, but hey - I was busy being blown away by her performance.

"I'm sorry." I say, with tears in my eyes. "It could've been worse."

She's not really convinced about that.

"They could've caught us having sex."

But I can tell my girl's not happy with my lack of empathy. Time to make it up. Step one: get closer to her. Step two: be the hottest bitch in town.

"Hot, _endless_, soaking wet, mind-blowing, epic, multiple orgasm-_ish_, girl-on-girl sex." I emphasize as I wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her softly - yet teasingly - on the cheek.

"Sounds like fun!"

Another voice startles me. I turn around as I let go of Brittany in a hurry. There's a face that looks way too familiar. My cheeks turn pale, and my voice cracks: "Mom! Hi!"

* * *

**Liked it? Next chapter's going to be the start of the 'wrapping up' ... I mean, this story can't go on forever, right?**

**I guess there's like 4 or 5 more chapters until the end. **

**Let me guys know what you think ;) **


	32. DAY 456 - An apology

**This is a necessary chapter to move on to the next. I'll update soon after this one, so you'll get the point of it soon enough ;)**

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**DAY 456 - An apology**

"That little dance your girlfriend did for you last night, that was amazing, Santana."

I look up to Rachel, who's pouring out some coffee. I remember that dance. _Damn_. I nod, there's no way I'm even trying to banalize that.

"She's awesome." I simply comment while shrugging. "I love that girl."

Brittany's at work, going through a shitload of papers and contracts. Susan's doing most of the stuff for now, really, but my girl's good at catching up fast. I'm enjoying a day off, though I'm meeting up with Jacob later today. For business, you know.

Yesterday has been quite the event. First, that lap dance in front of everyone else. Then that _Mami-thing_ happened. I even called her 'mom'. I never do that. And afterwards, we had to go and say hi to the rest of our parents - awkward much? But they had a good laugh about it. My dad thought it was appropriate to complement Brittany on her dance moves. It worried me a bit. _Mami_ remained awfully quiet for the rest of the night, though. No surprise ... Quite a disturbing night, come to think of it.

"Yeah, that sloppy kiss you gave Quinn wasn't half bad either." I say snarky-_ish_, completely out to tease the shit out of her.

Quinn rolls her eyes while crossing her arms defensively. Rachel just turns pale to giggle shyly.

"I'm so happy the two of you are back together." the Hobbit suddenly continues, completely ignoring my comment. "I mean, Quinn, you remember how Brittany was like when Santana left, right? God, that was _tragic_. Like a little black swan, waiting for death to come and take her away. Horrible."

Dramatic Rachel, not afraid to make bad things sound even worse. I notice how Quinn suddenly kicks her best friend's leg under the table. To make it clear that I saw what happened, I bend my head all the way under the tabletop. Quinn feels caught and decides to say whatever it is right away - and avoid a painful and dramatic Lopez discussion before she'll eventually have to cave in.

"The thing is ... When you were gone ..."

She kind of pinches one eye shut to think about something appropriate to say. She fails, so she approaches the subject differently.

"You didn't see her back then, Santana. She was a wreck. She was ... it was _awful_. She's always been this bubbly and happy personality to me, you know. And no one knew Brittany was capable of being _unhappy_. Except she was. She was massively depressed and down and ... The only thing she could do was cry and yell at people. And she drank quite a lot - more than before. I was really worried about her. And you ... You were gone."

Again, that awful confrontation with reality - my behavior. I lower my head, because no one has actually specifically told me about the impact it had on Brittany. I mean, I knew she had been quite unhappy for a while, but being reminded about that by my best friends is a bitter pill to swallow. Quinn's not finished talking, though. She notices how sad it's making me, so she wants to make me feel better.

"But you know, even then, Brittany has always lived in this kind of fairytale world. She's just so pure and good - so perfectly innocent. Always those unicorns and stuff."

Rachel interferes for a second: "Which can be disturbing on several occasions."

Quinn kicks her again before she continues talking, and this time it's making me grin.

"That take on life is awesome about her - that's what saved her. One day, she just came over to me, told me about some dream that involved leprechauns and elves - I didn't understand any of it - and before I knew it, she was dating that girl Hanna and her attitude changed back to normal."

I nod as if it's to analyze things and start to think. I've been awake at night lately, trying to find a way to fix what I broke - that part of her innocence. But I can't find a remedy to give her back that safe place. She really does live in another world, if you ask me. It's the one thing she truly believes in and I let her, because if there's one person in the world that deserves a better life, it's her.

A lot of times, I have tried to warn her for the awful things in the world. I got scared that a perfect, innocent girl like Brittany was too fragile for this hellhole we call earth. Like, one night after Jacob found out about us, I held her closely in my embrace and forced her to look at me. She had been kind of sad all day, because even though she knew we couldn't help falling in love, she couldn't help but feel hurt by her cousin - a family member, someone who should've had her back instead of yelling at her for hours.

"Brittany, I need you to know something." I told her carefully while tucking the loose hairs behind her ear. "A lot of times life isn't fair. People let you down, your friends turn out to be strangers, family treats you like shit and strangers pretend to be your best friends - and there's nothing you can do about it."

In response, she smiled sillily, like I just said something ridiculous. A soft pat on the back let me know that she understood.

"I know, babe." she answered me. "But I have _you_, right?"

That day I realized how much I underestimate her strength. Her beautiful vision of life keeps her from falling apart on a daily basis.

I sit on my chair and think about the things Quinn and Rachel just told me. I need to make it up to her, because she said it herself: she has _me_. And I should be the best person in this world to her, to make all the shit better. Except, I'm not. I'm someone who broke her heart massively, a long time ago. And even though we're better now, that memory might never fade. That feeling will always be tattooed on her heart. And it haunts me. I can't stand that I did that to her. How can I make it up to her? How can I ...

I widen my eyes as an idea sinks in. But then, I hesitate for a second. _No, wait. It's ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. But it's perfect!_

With lips firmly pressed on each other, I turn around to face the other person around the table. Like it's the most painful thing in the world, I open my mouth hesitantly - words only start to follow a couple of seconds later. My friends stare at me dubiously.

"Is there something wrong with you coffee?" Quinn asks.

I nearly choke in my own words, but decide to go for it after all: "I can't believe I'm saying this, Hobbit, but I think I need your help."

* * *

Jacob asked to meet at a local restaurant we used to go a lot while we were still dating. _Awkward. _I'm twenty minutes early, basically because I needed a reason to have a glass of wine and relax. Okay, two glasses. Brittany and I can't seem to find the time to meet or call each other until later today and I'm frustrated ... So we use the alternative way to communicate. And let me tell you: our text message history should be ashamed of itself. I'm naughtily smirking over some disgustingly nasty replies I just send her, when my ex-boyfriend approaches the table.

"What are you all smiling about?"

He kind of surprises me by his appearance, so I put the phone down - screen facing the tabletop - and run a couple of fingers through my black hair to fix it. I can tell he's waiting for a reply.

"Really? You're not going to tell me? Santana, you became a wuss."

I frown and feel genuinely insulted, so I offer him the phone to read my current conversation. His excited eyes roll over the screen as he's taking a seat. The look on his face quickly changes and he worryingly gives the device back to me.

"Oh, God, the two of you are like bunnies - and not in the cute way. My eyes hurt." he informs me.

I smirk and cross my arms: "Well, you wanted to know, didn't you? Go ahead, read along, you might actually learn something useful."

I'm being cocky - in a fun way - but Jacob clearly doesn't mind. He softly smiles, because I might still charm him with my careless and confident act. Suddenly, he cups the empty wine glass in front of him with a very serious expression taking over his face. Some weird, magician hand movements are showed and I can't help but being curious about what the hell he's doing.

"Have you been drinking already?" I ask him.

He seems undisturbed during his act. I frown.

"Abracadabra!" he suddenly shouts really, really loud.

I cover my eyes in shame: "What the hell, Jacob?"

I bet the table right next to us is staring at us. When I look up to him, he has some sort of worrying and wondering look in his eyes. Like whatever he was doing, didn't go well. _What the ...?_ A couple of seconds later, he seems to have given up on the whole thing and he shrugs.

"Nope, you're still a bitch." he concludes with a sudden smile as vicious as mine sometimes.

I nearly jump off my chair to slap him on the arm, which only makes him laugh hysterically.

"You're an idiot, Jacob."

He nods dorkishly.

We decide to order some wine and a menu for two. An hour passes, two hours pass, and suddenly, I realize that I don't even know why we are here exactly.

"Jacob, this has been nice and funny - and familiar. But why did you invite me for lunch? Is something wrong?"

He puts down his glass of wine with an enchanting smile - I remember that one - and looks up to me with puppy eyes. God, sometimes, he's just like his cousin.

"I wanted to ask you something, Santana. Call it a favor."

I snort and try to remember the last time I ever did someone a favor.

"You don't need sex advice, do you?" I ridicule his words.

Given the tough months he's been through after we parted, he's dealing with my Brittany teasing quite well, lately. All because of Marley. I guess he's truly in love this time.

"No, you naughty Lopez. Marley and I are doing great without you, really. The fact that she's straight really, really helps."

I snort.

"In fact ... we're engaged." he suddenly announces.

My eyes widen and I freeze up for a couple of seconds. I can tell he has a hard time analyzing my reaction.

But suddenly, I hop off my chair. My feet allow me to go around the table and I almost drop in his lap to hug him intensely. My head's buried deeply in his neck and I swear to God: there are some tears of happiness that try to break through.

"Jacob! That's great. That's _awesome_ news." I tell him as I sigh completely relieved and genuinely excited. "I'm so - so very happy for you."

He pats me on the shoulder and thanks me for the kind words.

"Get off my lap, lesbian."

We both smile and forget to experience the awkward feeling that we were once about to get married.

"It's all new. But dad's definitely not invited to the wedding."

I fix my dress and walk back over to my chair to sit down. The waiter arrives to serve dessert.

"Still not talking to that controlling, fake-ass dictator?"

He twists his head and smirks: "No, still not talking to _my dad_."

We both have a silent laugh about it.

"We're thinking about suing his ass for what he did to you and Brittany. But ... Aunt Susan's taking care of that - to see if it's possible."

I've heard Brittany saying something familiar. I'm staying out of it, though. I've had my satisfactory revenge on him.

"But anyway, that's why we're here." he continues.

"To sue your dad?" I ask, while picking up my beverage.

He shakes his head: "God, no. To talk about Marley ... and Brittany and you."

I frown deeply with disbelief: "Say what?"

He repositions himself on the chair and puts one elbow on the table. I have a first bite of my plate and nearly orgasm when I realize how good it tastes._ Belgian chocolates ..._

"No, Santana. I have a business proposition for you. I think you'll like it."

_Business proposition?_ Oh! I'm good at those. I made an empire back in Atlanta, without ever having to ask someone for help.

"I'll be the judge of that." I answer him, as my alter ego suddenly kicks in.

He ignores my strict behavior: "Just listen, will you? You and Brittany are back together again, right?"

I nod proudly.

"Well, Marley and I are about to get married. But the thing is: Marley's from Atlanta. And you are from Lima. And I'm stuck in Lima, doing my job and you're supposed to be in Atlanta, for _your_ job. But Brittany's in Lima, waiting for you."

His words are confusing me, so I need a moment to go through all of it again. I use my finger to draw an imaginary scheme.

"_Yeeees_ ..." I slowly say, with one eye pinched shut to make sure I've got it right.

I have another taste of the food. _Still so good._ _Focus_, _Santana. Jacob's trying to make a point._

"How would you feel if you'd do the exact same thing you were doing in Atlanta, but in Lima?"

I chuckle and turn my hands so the palms face the ceiling.

"You think I haven't thought of that already? It's not that easy, Jacob. There's my business contacts and the people I work with, there's the production, the factory ... They need me there."

He's unconvinced: "What if they need _someone_. Not you."

"You're saying I'm replaceable?" I ask with a teasing undertone.

A silly smile of him puts me at ease: "Of course not. But there are parts of your job that I could do. Back there, while you stay in Lima. And you'd only need to travel to Atlanta a couple of times a year to make sure everything's still going as planned - to check up on me. I could do this for you, Santana. I could do ninety percent of your job and make sure you have nothing to worry about."

He's got this all prepared.

I'm intrigued: "And why would you do that, Jacob?"

He bends his entire body over the table and looks me deep in the eyes: "Because I love you, Santana Lopez. I always have. And I know you love Brittany. This right here, it isn't working: sooner or later, you'll have to go back to Atlanta. And Brittany might not be too happy about that. But Marley's from there. And I want - no, I need to be with her. So in order for all of us to be happy, we need to change a couple of things."

It seems he has thought about it for a while. I'm hesitant. I love my job back there, it's my private treasure. The one thing I can call my own. But then again, he's right: Brittany's here. And I'd give up everything for her.

"What about _your_ job? It's such a good one."

My fingers make a gesture that aims at the money he's making. I realize why I ever fell in love with him when he nearly repeats my exact thoughts about _my_ girlfriend: "I'd do anything for Marley. Besides, I can do about eighty percent of it in Atlanta as well."

A deep sigh leaves my mouth and it takes a second to sink in. I don't even need to think about it any longer. He just came up with the perfect plan.

"Okay, let's do it. You've got a deal, Jacob."

He politely offers me his hand to shake and I willingly do so. _Weird. It's official, I'm staying in Lima for good. With Brittany. _He starts eating his chocolate dessert. I stare at him for a while.

"Jacob?"

He looks up and smiles to let me know he's listening.

"When did you realize that ... You were okay with Britts and me? I mean, I never really ... You know how sorry I am about all of it, don't you?"

He nods silently and remains silent for a while.

"I know. Thing is, I knew immediately how great the two of you were together. You guys are a match made in heaven, nobody even dares to question that."

His tender and honest smile warms my heart.

"I just ... I had a really hard time accepting that I lost the most wonderful woman I ever met. You've changed my life, Santana, even though you might not realize that. But you have. And I am forever thankful for that. And what my dad did to you, that was just ..."

I shake my head and put my hand on his: "You should never apologize for the things that bastard did. You had no idea. You are a completely different person."

"Am I?" he asks. "I did some horrible things to you, too."

I wiggle my nose and heave a sigh: "So did I, remember. That doesn't matter anymore."

Hate to admit it out loud. We both decide that I'm right. _Duh. _

"Care for another drink?"

The bottle of wine is already near my glass. But it's late already. And there's some place I've got to be. Brittany's side, actually.

"No, I can't, I need to go - I've got big plans for tomorrow. It's important."

"Alright, Lopez. Get out of here. We'll talk about it over the phone."

I nod and smile at him dreamingly: "Marley's a lucky girl, Jacob."

He's very pleased to hear that.

"Thanks, Santana. Now don't fuck it up with Brittany again, will you? Because she's the best person in this shitty world. And you, you are a gorgeous _goddess_. Plus, I can't handle another one of your lesbian dramas again."

Those last words came out with a mocking undertone. I put my hand on his cheek as I'm about to walk away from the table. Like we've been escorted back to the ancient times, I bend over an lovingly kiss him on the cheek.

"I won't."

His eyes are filled with joyful sparkles. I like them that way. He once looked at me like that a long time ago, when we were happily in love. When I thought he was the right one for me. When I was wrong. My consciousness wanders off to that time of revelation. To that time when I realized that I would have to hurt him badly, by admitting that my right one wasn't a boy, it was a girl. Staring at him suddenly seems to remind me of our worst days, many months ago. Once he found out that I was in love with Brittany, we hardly talked. It took him months to get over the heartache. I hurt him bad, time after time he had to see me. Maybe Alex wasn't so wrong to protect his son. Maybe he had a point - somewhere in his wicked and disturbed mind. I, myself, would cross the world to protect Brittany. I crossed the border, as a matter of fact. I kicked my CEO's office to pieces.

Sure, I forgave myself for falling in love with his cousin. Nothing in this world could've stopped me from doing that. But I could've stopped some vicious and hurtful arguments. I could've avoided Jacob, taken Brittany away from that property, held back from being this visible to him. And so happy without him.

"I can't believe you are fucking my cousin behind my back. I can't believe you did that."

I can still hear him screaming. In my face, so close that it scared me. But he wasn't going to hurt me, at least not physically. I could count the number of times the vein above his left eye nearly jumped in the minute and a half he was yelling at me, that night, a long time ago. Twenty three times, to be exact. And then he made it too personal. He started calling Brittany a slut, a manipulative lesbian, who turned me gay for her own enjoyment. He called me weak and naive, for falling for her tricks.

"You're a fucking idiot, Santana. You gave up on our life together. On us. How could you do this to us? To my family?"

But there hadn't been an us for a long time anymore. There was no more love. He was the only one who didn't realize that at that point.

"Does she ... does she take care of you like I do?"

I frowned. Oh, he started going there. _Don't do it, Jacob. _

I started shaking my head in denial: "I don't want to do this, Jacob. Just ..."

But he was determined. He walked around me in circles, pointing fingers and calling me names. By that time, he started crying, because every little thing he said made him picture the reality. It was cold in the main entrance of the mansion. All I wanted was to go home, to Brittany and get warm.

"Does she ... cook for you or take you out shopping?"

"Jacob, stop! Please, stop!" I begged him, already working up a temper.

I didn't want to hurt him. All I did was put my hands on his chest to make him stop screaming - stop yelling at me. I cried too. But he was hysterical. Mad with hurt.

"Does she kiss you when you get up in the morning?"

I got tired of this shit, actually. But my guilt kept me there. My guilt kept me able to listen to his irrational words. He pushed my hands off of his body and turned away from me, his head all red and ready to blow off. His fingers ran through his hair, like it was supposed to sober him up. He was out to hurt himself. Other whiles he wouldn't have asked me all those things. It surprised me when he suddenly faced me again.

"Just tell me one thing: does she fuck you better than I do?"

I frowned, clearly offended, and finally found the courage to yell back.

"You don't get to fucking ask me that fucking question, you fucking jerk."

But the tears in his eyes got mixed and caught up with anger, with disbelief. He grabbed me by the wrist, not to hurt me, but to make me listen. It caught me off guard enough to do so.

"I do, Santana. I get to fucking ask you _all_ these fucking questions."

Somewhere, he was right. I knew that. But he had gotten me so mad. So sickening and disgustingly mad.

"Does she fuck you better than I do?" he repeated, emphasizing every single word.

I pushed him really aggressively against the chest and made him back the fuck off. His back hit the wall. And I just stood there, glaring at him with vicious eyes.

"She fucking does." I answered while screaming, not even thinking about the meaning, or the result.

My breathing stopped and I choked in my own words, because I couldn't believe that I actually just said that. My hand flew up to my mouth, to cover it up - like it would take my words back. The joy that had once sparkled in his eyes was now completely gone and I realized it. Never have I ever seen such an empty expression. Every hope had vanished and I was the worst person in the world - the one took it away from him. Those eyes, that look ... It was nothing like I'm witnessing now. And I'm glad he found his way back again.

* * *

**Soooo, what did you guys think? I know, no Brittany - lack of Brittana, but sometimes, you need to take the bigger view to make the little things matter more. I'll show you in the next chapter ;) **

**Let me know what you thought about it ;)**


	33. DAY 457 - Fairytale world

**DAY 457 - Fairytale world**

I sigh the deepest, most worrying sigh.

"Tell me again that this is a good idea."

I almost sound annoyed - bored even.

"It's a great idea, Santana. Oh! _So_ romantic!"

Rachel keeps her fingers entwined as she stares at me lovingly. She's clothed like a freaking toddler today and her jumping up and down doesn't really help.

"Okay, okay. Back off, Berry. You already have a lady lover to get your mack on."

Her smile drops immediately when my words sink in and all there's left is a strict expression. _Okay, that was rude, wasn't it?_

"I'm sorry." I sigh, completely against everything I believe in. "I know you made quite an effort for this. So ..."

I try not to say the words, but the Hobbit just keeps staring at me until I do.

"... thank you." I mumble, while rolling my eyes.

She smiles the biggest, most excited smile and jumps up and down a couple of time. Her enthusiasm is already starting to piss me off.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

I shrug. I'll never really be ready when it comes to this, I guess. I turn my head and stare at one of the few things that scares the hell out of me. _You can do this, Santana. _

* * *

Brittany's standing in a field we once passed when we went horseback riding, facing the other direction. She's wearing a little, blue dress. The wind's taking her blond hairs on a trip through the sky. Even the fabric of her dress seems to follow the rhythm. God, she's pretty. She's so very, very pretty. The evening sun shines down on her perfection, which makes her look like an actual angel. Only wings, my dear. Only wings and heaven would take you away from me.

"Brittany?" I silently ask when I'm finally near her.

I'm sweating like crazy, mostly because I'm scared as hell. When she turns around, excited and happy to finally see me today, it only takes a second before her entire attitude changes. She turns her head up, because I'm a little bit higher than she expected. Her surprised eyes roll over my body and yeah - even her jaw drops.

"Santana ... why are you ... ?"

"Dressed like an elf, sitting on top of a horse?" I ask nervously.

She's looking at my clothes: a white tunic, decorated with little sparkling stones and fake diamonds, and very tight boots. My hair's held back by a shinny circlet. My eyes reflect fear, though. Like I'm about to die.

The animal underneath me snorts and - yeah, it scares me immediately. It's the same horse that once took us on a trip with our friends. Victoria. And I'm riding this damn thing, all alone, without any help. Even better, Rachel forced the overgrown donkey into some sort of hat with a pointy horn, which makes it look like I'm riding a unicorn.

Brittany slowly nods, clearly impressed by my Lord of the Rings style. I can tell she has no idea what's going on, but that doesn't even matter to her: I got her a freaking _unicorn_.

"Did Rachel invite us to another one of her costume parties? Because I didn't get an invitation. But that's okay. If she doesn't want to be friends with me anymore because I'm much more talented than she is, you can go without me."

Her funny words make me chuckle, even though she seems to be serious about it.

"Shut up, Brittany." I tell her playfully. "I came here for you. You know ..."

But before I can carry on with talking, the horse makes a weird movement and I clench onto its neck. Brittany walks over and takes the reins to calm the animal down. Sunbeams take over her face and I'm enchanted.

"There, there, lovely Unicorn. It's okay."

She pets his neck gently and I fall in love with her all over again. _How can you be this beautiful? _I switch back to my senses when Victoria starts moving again.

"Can I get off now? Did I empress you enough?"

She smiles sillily and nods. As an extra, she helps me get down on my feet again. We tie the reins up to a nearby tree - while she's silently and patiently waiting for an explanation.

Behind the saddle, there's a bag, which holds a couple of surprises for my girl. The first one's a rolled up piece of parchment that's sealed with a red ribbon. I hand it over to her - I even take an old-fashioned bow. Brittany's really overwhelmed by all of this, so her hand accepts the present at a very slow pace. I notice how she can't stop staring at the fake unicorn.

"What is it?" she finally asks.

"Open up." I tell her, instructing her to do so with my eyes. "It's a promise."

She frowns, all confused and she briefly checks my elvish outfit again: "A promise?"

I nod, way too proud about it: "Yeah,I want to apologize for the things I did to you."

She sighs deeply, because - _yes_ -_ I'm bringing this up_ _again_. And every time I did in the previous days, we always ended up with the conclusion that there were no prescriptions or plans or ... a manual that could bring us there. But now here I am, with my own manual sorted out. Dressed like a freaking elf, accompanied by a freaking unicorn, in the middle of a freaking field. She _is_ impressed, but I can tell she's not all too sure about the whole thing.

"No, look. I can tell you a million times how sorry I am, Britts. I might already have."

She nods while smiling softly. I did.

"But the thing is, I can't erase whatever I did. I tried to protect you, but I fucked it up royally. I can't promise that you'll never be disappointed in me again, but I can promise you that I'll never deliberately hurt you again. It's written down, right here. I swear on my mom and dad. And on Tubbs."

She interrupts my speech though: "I wouldn't do that. Tubbs said some really bad things about you while you were gone."

Her fairytale world comes alive in the middle of all of this, as it seems. I walk over to her and take her one free hand.

"You know that an elf's word is like ... obligatory and really, really special, right?"

She nods. _Of course_ she does. She's read every elf story in the world. And told _me_ all about it. Elves are the most loyal and honest creatures in the world. They respect everything that's beautiful, and the truth is beautiful.

"Well, I have to do exactly as this document says, or else I'll be punished by the Elf ... uhm."

But she knows exactly what I'm talking about: "Elf King."

"Yeah, that one." I say with both sides of my lips curling up.

Brittany's just standing there, staring at the paper in her hand. She has unfolded the parchment now and reads all the letters and words. After a while, she starts nodding slowly. I want to make sure she knows how serious I am about apologizing - and knowing her, this is the best way to prove my point. I'm willing to do anything for this girl. She bends over to me and kisses me softly on the lips. My skin's taken over by goosebumps. A couple of fingers linger over my cheeks.

"Apology accepted, babe."

My arms find their way around her body. She's such a good person.

"But there's more, actually." I confess.

She steps back again and tilts her head to look at me curiously.

"You know when we first came together - how madly in love I fell with you? And it turned out I was smothering you. And after a while, you got really upset and sad about it and I had to learn the hard way that I was wrong?"

She nods. Those weren't the best of days.

"But we got through it. From then on, life was great again, wasn't it? Just you and me. Baking pies, going to parties, watching SpongeBob."

She remembers those moments as perfectly as I do.

"But after every good phase, there would be a fight. Or a discussion. Or you'd be sad and I'd work too hard. It kind of screwed us up. But we always figured it out."

The tips of my fingers memorize her perfect face. The touch of her skin is so overwhelming that it almost makes me want to cry.

"And I know that every time we grew a little closer again, things randomly got in the way. Something always had to come in between. But that's the thing they call _life_, Brittany. And life will always get in the way."

She nods. I guess she understands what I'm saying.

"But we made it, didn't we? Even though Alex forced me to go away and I didn't call you and your gramps died and you dated that girl Hanna ..."

I recall it on purpose and she smiles mischievously: "You just had to bring that up again, didn't you?"

I proudly nod: "_Yes, I did._ But anyway ... We love each other. None of those disasters taught us differently. And I finally figured it out: that's the only thing that really matters."

"That we love each other?" she asks.

I nod.

Teaching a life lesson, dressed like an elf, probably isn't the best way to make your arguments sound valid and serious, but at least I'm trying. I practiced this entire speech about how life's a bitch and you need to go with the flow, but suddenly, I've lost all the perfect words. I'm nervous. I'm really, really nervous and that horse snorting down my neck isn't helping.

"Life's a volcano, Brittany - you just have to learn to surf on top of that bitching hot lava. And we _did_. We survived all that shit. And to prove so, I got on a freaking horse to impress you."

I smile as I wave at the giant animal behind me. Victoria snorts again, and I'm scared for a tiny second. I swear to God, that thing hates me. Brittany looks at me dreamingly and nods. We did make it - through all of it. She realizes.

"So what are you saying? That life will always find a way to bring us down?" she asks.

Sadly, that is exactly what I'm saying.

"Yeah, but we need to be smarter. No, _I_ need to be smarter. You already figured out that there are many ways to tell life to fuck off - I only just realized that now. You'll have to teach me how to be better at it. And when I get to that point, it'll be easy: no matter what happens, we'll always be fine. You know why?"

She shakes her head like an attentive child that's curious for the answer.

"Because _we_ are 'Brittany and Santana'. It's as simple as that."

She bites her bottom lip and scoffs my final words, even though she knows I'm right. I walk back over to the horse to grab another thing out of the bag. _Gently, Santana. You don't want to piss that thing off. _

I hide the little present behind my back as I make my way over to her again.

"Brittany, I have a question for you. If I promise to never ever hurt you again ..." I softly whisper with a voice that's about to crack.

She raises an eyebrow. This girl has always loved questions, because she comes up with the most hilarious answers most of the times.

Her blue deer eyes grow wider with curiosity. I take a deep breath and exhale the nerves.

"... will you marry me?" I ask as I show her the little box that's been hiding in the palm of my sweaty hands.

My shaking fingers open the lid of the box and there it is: a perfect, sparkling elven-inspired ring, made out of white gold, with three little diamonds in the middle of it. I know she adores them, and her dropped jaw proves my point. She's been hinting at getting one for her birthday since forever. But I knew I had to wait for this moment to get her one, a more expensive version. A couple of agonizing silent seconds pass and she's just standing there, staring at the blue, beautiful little jewelry box. In the meantime, she's looking as beautiful as ever. I'm nearly fainting, though, because she won't say anything. My nerves are about to explode out of my body.

"What's that?" she finally asks.

I frown, because the first thing I expected her to say was _yes_. I look at the ring and notice where she's pointing at. The inscription.

"Is that Elvish?" she wants to know. "_Brittany and Santana forever_, right?"

She knows way too much stuff about this. I frown, hesitantly.

"Yes. You like it?"

She shakes her head and clicks her tongue doubtfully: "It's not fair."

I hold my breath for a second and try to analyze the shit out of her answer.

"Excuse me?" I ask, while blinking a couple of times in a row.

"It's not fair, Santana." she repeats with a strict face.

Her arms are crossed by now. My mouth's agape, I have no idea what to say. Rarely happens.

"_I_ was going to ask _you_ that question." she suddenly reveals with a vicious smile. "You stole my moment."

My heart bounces in my throat and I burst into tears immediately.

"So yes? Is that a yes?" my voice cracks out of excitement as my knees go weak.

She dives in to kiss me and almost makes me drop the box to the ground.

"It's more than a yes!" she whispers against my mouth when we part for a second. "I _love_ you, Santana - how could I ever say no? And how dare you wait this long before you even thought about it?"

I cry like a little child as her acceptance slowly sinks in. I'm so happy that I could actually die right now.

"I'm thinking about marrying you since the first time I ever kissed you." I admit, while my hands do their best to wipe the tears off my cheeks.

She rubs the sides of my arms for comfort and kisses me softly on the tip of my nose.

"You scared the hell out of me." I tell her.

"You deserved that one last time. Now give me my damn elven ring." she funnily demands with a dorky smile.

My free hand takes the precious piece of jewelry out of the box. Her hand's offered to me as my shaking fingers slide the white gold over her slim ring finger. Brittany's speechless as it happens. Her mouth's agape and if it was possible, her eyes would drop out of her head.

"I will never ever forget this moment, Santana." my fiancee promises.

I look up to her and find the contours of her face faded by the most beautiful rays of sunshine. But even though her figure is pale and unclear, I can still detect her beautiful eyes. They are staring at the gorgeous ring around her finger.

"Nor will I, Britts." I whisper.

"So what will be our vows?" she asks all excited about the next part. "I promise to forever love and respect you?"

It surprises me. I haven't exactly thought that through yet.

"And give you at least one orgasm a week?" I complete her part with a naughty smile.

She's totally up for that, as expected: "Okay, that's _easy_. Deal!"

I snicker as I'm picturing how that might sound during an actual wedding ceremony, in public.

"We can't actually say that in front of everyone, you do realize that, right?"

She shrugs: "Well, this was my actual vow right now, privately for you. I'll make up another one by then. I promise."

"Like what?"

I can't help it, I'm curious. She wiggles from the left to the right on her feet and thinks about it for a minute. Her hand, overshadowed by that masterpiece of a ring, takes me away to the part of the field where there's a little creek. The grass tickles the tunic I'm wearing. It's actually a nice dress, when you look at it from this angle.

"How about ..."

She bites her bottom lip and squeezes her eyes for a second. She hums for a while, just to figure out a perfect start.

"Okay, so ... _Santana_."

I straighten my back to show I'm listening very attentively. Her searching stare translates to a confident and soft, loving look. It's for me only. I feel how her fingers touch the front of my circlet. She's still impressed by my act.

"Gramps once told me you only have three loves in life. Your first, your great and your true." she informs me.

I'm touched that she still hasn't forgotten about her Gramps. I sigh deeply and notice how his memory almost makes her tear up for a second.

"But he never told me that you'd turn out to be all of them, at once. You were my first love, my great love and my true love. And at first, that was a bit overwhelming to me. And I tried to push you away. I made mistakes. But when you made a mistake, and you left, I realized how lucky I was to have found you. How lucky and special I must be to have fallen in love with my very best friend. And we might be getting married, and I might promise you here and now that I'll love you forever - until death do us part. But that won't be entirely true."

I frown. Wouldn't it?

"Truth is that I promised you that a very long time ago, the day I realized that you were the perfect girl for me. So this marriage might make it official to our friends and family, but we both know that we've promised to be forever the very first time we kissed."

Her words have touched the life of me. I need a moment to catch my breath as I'm completely overcome by her expression of love. This is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me.

"We did?" I softly choke.

She nods confidently.

"Four hundred and fifty seven days ago, to be exact." she recalls.

I'm positively startled. _How does she ... ?_

She shrugs adorably: "I've kept a journal."

I sigh deeply and look into her baby blue eyes. This is it. I made it. I got my fucking act together and won her back. Brittany and I, forever this time, just like it was meant to be. And life - oh, life can bite me.

I grab my phone and dial the first number that pops up in my head.

"What are you doing?" Brittany asks.

I smile viciously and raise an eyebrow: "I'm calling Alex!"

She starts laughing hysterically and pokes my shoulder: "You're terrible, Santana!"

"Terribly in love with you, that is ..."

* * *

**This is what we call, the beginning of the happy forever ever ... ;-) **

**What did you guys think? **


	34. DAY 494 - Wedding plans

**DAY 494 - Wedding plans**

Dinner night with the folks. Jesus Fucking Christ, how is it possible that they lure us back into one of these _every single week_? Can't say I love it, because lately, everything's about that damn wedding. I wish Brittany and I just eloped a couple of weeks ago. We could've just jumped on a random plane and gotten married in Vegas or something. She knows how I'm feeling about the family quality time lately, simply because my girl knows everything about me. Her slim, gorgeous body creeps up to me while she runs some fingers through my black hair as I'm searching for my keys. It's teasing my skin and it makes me shiver.

"Don't worry, babe. When we get home after this three hour long horror story, I'll eat you for dessert." she promises with a joyful, naughty undertone.

Now that's what I call nice future plans. But it can't keep me from pouting: I've had enough of the dinner night already.

"Can't we just get married like today or something? That'd solve the whole damn problem."

She's trying to apologize while making her way over to the bathroom, even though it's not even her fault: "You know how my family's like when it comes to weddings. It has to go public, people need to write articles about the company. Publicity. Positive advertisement. Blah blah blah ... Besides, don't you want our wedding to be epic?"

I snort.

"Our wedding _will_ be epic, Britts. It's _you_, marrying the catch of the century. Everyone will talk about it. And Rachel, she'll be so jealous that her Jewish head will turn green. It might stay like that forever. It'll be awesome."

She giggles and stucks her head around the door. Sometimes, my imagination is even more excessive than hers. My girl knows how to shut me up and relax, though. She walks over to me once she has found her earrings and wraps her arms around me. I feel the energy between our skins as she's bending over to kiss my cheek. Her wet lips on my flesh, it's heavenly. Forget about all the trouble - about all the annoying things that it brings: this is why I'm marrying this girl. Not just because she's drop-dead gorgeous. Not because she has the sweetest smile and the bluest eyes. Not because she has a positive view on the world that even amazes the greatest writers in the history. And certainly not because she has the best killer body every girl in the world is jealous of - even that might be a push in the right direction. It's because every single thing she does simply stuns me. It drives me crazy and surprises me every time all over again. She has super powers that no person on this earth can describe. Brittany sees right through me, she cares about me and loves me. And that's enough to got me all figured out. Every movement of her lips, her fingers, her eyes or her body makes me tingle and shiver, like it's the first time she's ever laid hands on me. And that's unique - that's like falling in love every day anew. How would I ever be able to live without that?

"Will you please do something for me before we leave?"

She nods. This girl never protests when I ask her something, unlike me: I have the tendency of being grumpy sometimes.

"Can you please take this off?"

I point at her little top and smirk. It's a skin tight, pink shirt, which emphasizes her awesome twins. She smiles a naughty smile and makes a clicking, disapproving sound with her tongue.

"Santana, Santana. You impatient, naughty girl."

I'm flattered. Her hand pushes me away from her, and I take a couple of steps back to regain my balance. But she's following me, and her slim fingers keep pushing me until I'm with my back up against the wall. I'm wearing a tiny dress that could've been an oversized T-shirt, honestly. It's black and just hangs down my body loosely. When I bend over, you can totally see my black panties.

"Your mom will think this outfit is horrible - again." she points out.

I frown, but I'm out to get _Mami_ worked up - I admit. Brittany's eyes are checking me out. She's overly invested to memorize the way my boobs look like in this dress.

"But you make it so easy for me to get my fingers down your pants." she finally whispers.

Her hands are now on my waist and I start to shiver.

"I feel like I'm put on earth to make life easy for you, sweetie." I reply, sort of to make her laugh.

But she's not laughing. She's got the tips of her fingers running over my caramel skin. They give me goosebumps and make me shiver. I open my mouth, so fresh air can flow in and out without much trouble. But my breathing stops every now and then, when she's caressing a nerve, or a sensitive spot.

"You're cheating, Santana."

"Cheating?" I ask curiously.

She nods: "Cheating. You want to start with dessert first."

I chuckle: "There's nothing wrong with wanting the best things _first_."

The wall behind me is hard, but it's warm. My head's pressed firmly against the surface as she suddenly dives in to kiss me aggressively. I feel her tongue, forcing me to open my mouth and respond to her kissing. Her left hand grabs the side of my hair, as the other one pulls my shirt/dress all the way up. I'm panting already, and she hasn't even done anything yet. We're just magically and instantly overcome by desire. I love how this happens all the time - how we still have that passion and lust. Her fingers teasingly slip under the edge of my panties and they slowly push then down a couple of inches. My butt's instinctively pressed up against the wall and my feet spread a little bit so she can access my core easier.

"My hair will get ruined." I warn her. "We'll be late."

She refuses to stop kissing me, even while I'm speaking.

"Not if I make you come very, very quickly." she answers, like it's an actual promise.

Her index finger slightly touches my most sensitive part.

"Oh, God." I gasp through her mouth, maybe a little bit too loud.

Quickies have this effect on me. They turn me on madly, they make me go _wild_.

"What about you?"

She licks my tongue and then bites my bottom lip. I groan as my knees already start to feel week.

"You have an entire night to make it up to me." is her response.

I don't object. She's an animal. Never too tired or too much in a hurry to satisfy me on the spot. This right here, this has happened a million times before. She notices how hot I am for her, how hungry, and it's like this challenge to her: she needs to make me come all over her right away. I fucking _love_ that about her. Devotion, I tell you!

Her fingers start to build a rhythm by now. Two of them massage my clit in a very rough and fast way. This wouldn't be possible when we're on one of our tender, lovemaking nights in the bedroom. This only gets me off when I'm horny as hell and every nerve in my body hurts because she's not touching me instantly to solve the _problem_.

She ends our sloppy kiss with one long, sensual lick. Her tongue slides through my mouth, to caress mine one last time. After that, the thick and warm flesh treats the inside of my upper lip and it captures it until it's rolled all over the edge to let go of it. As her fingers keep stimulating me, and I start to pant massively - face it: a good quickie only takes a couple of minutes - she lowers her head and heads towards my breasts. She guides her mouth to my nipples, which she brings out with the hand that was grabbing my hair until a second ago. I'm not wearing a bra - you can't when you're wearing this outfit. Brittany's a big fan of that. Her teeth carefully close in around my teat and the pressure - the least painful sense of pain - is making me tense up and hold my breath.

"Keep breathing." she tells me.

I do as I'm told and gasp for air.

"Oh, Brittany. I fucking love you so much."

She grins as her tongue draws circles around my areola: "You're quite the charmer when you're getting laid, Lopez."

But her teasing is getting in the way of me coming against this wall and I tell her to shut up. You know, _charmingly_.

Her body drops to its knees and it takes me a second to break through the blur and realize what she's doing. She's going down on me. She quickly smirks as she's looking at my soaking wet core, before she closes in on me and tastes my fluids. My body instinctively backs away again, because the feeling's just too good. Her hot tongue makes me melt. But the wall's in the way, it's keeping me tied down on the exact same spot. I don't mind. I _really_ don't mind.

"Babe, you taste so good." she tells me, and her words - or the vaporization of her words - tingles me even more.

It vibrates against my clit and my hips start moving forward and backward without my permission. She brings one finger to my vagina - it enters me. I arch my back and throw my head back. _Fuck_. Another one follows. They move up and down rapidly, like there's no time. I guess there really isn't. Sensations I can't describe flow through my blood and they take me away to some world I wish I knew its place in this universe. She discovered my G-spot many, _many_ months ago. Fuck everyone who denies its existence, because it's there - and it's the best freaking part of a female's body. All the ones who don't believe in it, need to get laid more often - and by more talented people.

Her tongue keeps playing with me. I'm getting double treatment today. _Not complaining, I tell you._

She breathes through her nose, which makes it possible for her to not stop, while the breezes of air work as an extra stimulation. Her free hand's places on my naked butt, and she has her trimmed nails pressed deeply into my skin.

My dress seems to slide over her head further with every little head movement she makes, but we don't mind. She's got me close to coming. I feel it with every little moan I let out.

My fingers are curled up against the wall - searching for some sort of grip, but nothing in this room will keep my feet on the ground once my orgasm reaches me. That's _the_ _Brittany effect_, man.

My body's taking over every little bit of willingness. I can no longer control my muscles and nerves. Everything that happens, every part that moves, is automatic and driven by her.

"Brittany ..." I pant, but I can't say anything else.

I feel how her lips form a smile down there. The girl knows I'm coming. She's not giving up, though, not for a second. Her fingers keep sliding in and out of my vagina, touching my G-spot every other second. It feels like teasing electric shocks, who push me closer to the edge with every new movement. I don't mind. I'm ready to jump off that fucking edge. Her tongue sucks my clit for a brief moment, and it gets pressed against her front teeth. Jesus Fucking Christ, she has never - ever - done that before and it feels fucking amazing. I open my eyes widely and put one of my hands on top of her head. I scream out her name as that rough, forceful trick makes me come all over her face. Every sensation in my body has centered around my waist and below. All I'm feeling right now are sense-driven, thrusting movements and magical flashes that rush through the veins in my vagina. I stop breathing for a while and depend on the wall to keep me on my feet. I'm not sure if I'm still standing, because for a solid minute, I'm convinced that I'm paralyzed.

Brittany's up on her feet by the time I'm ready to open my eyes. My hips are still moving - it still feels like she's touching me. _Aftershock_. God, those are amazing. If she touches me once now, just with one little finger, she'll have me orgasm again. It's amazing what a female body is capable of. But I pray to God she won't do that, because it'll make me a mess. A freaking, sex-driven, worn out mess, unable to have dinner with the parents.

She doesn't, luckily. She just takes my hands with hers, and pushes them up against the wall. Her body presses against mine and she kisses me sensually and lovingly. I love my taste on her lips. I love how she loves it.

There it is: my nerves start to work again. I can feel my legs, my arms, my waist.

"You are a sex goddess." I assure her, while I'm experiencing another aftershock.

She appreciates the compliment and shrugs as she's keeping her lips on mine.

"I have a really hot and horny victim to practice my skills on."

I snort and turn my head to catch some breath. That leaves her kissing my cheek. She pecks me rapidly and softly, all the way up to the lower part of my ear. My lower lips gets bitten until it nearly starts to bleed. I can't stand it anymore. She needs to get her hands and lips _off_ of me now. I came too fucking hard. Every sense in my body is in overdrive. My hands push her away from me and she smiles, because she knows what's going on. This has happened before.

"Let's get dinner." she proposes.

I run some fingers through my ruined hair and sigh a hidden smile.

"Wait. Just ... fucking wait for a second." I beg her.

I'm not ready to function again. The sides of my mouth suddenly curl all the way up and I pinch my eyes shut even further. _Oh. Oooooh, fuck._

"You and those freaking aftershocks." she grins self-confidently.

"Fuck you." I whisper.

She walks over to me again and cups my core without truly touching it. I back away from her movement before I explode again.

"Later tonight, babe. Looking forward to it."

I smirk and finally open my eyes.

"Escort me to my worst nightmare now, please."

She grabs my hand and pulls me tight up against her: "I will. But first, you need to change your panties."

I chuckle all exhausted. Yes, I do.

* * *

"I don't see _how_ you can do that. I mean, you can't exactly have a baby without a man, can you?"

_I can't believe I just heard those words. _Only my mother can come up with something ignorant like that. Brittany's frowning, simply because she doesn't agree. I sigh deeply and clench my teeth. Everyone around the table seems to have difficulty with finding the appropriate words. My dad has the perfect answer for her, but he's keeping his mouth shut. Bruce and Susan slowly chew their food in anticipation. _Come up with something clever to say without turning this into a fight, Santana. _

Brittany's first though, because she puts down her glass of wine and openly disagrees: "That's rude. It's like saying that vodka isn't a morning beverage."

I smirk and decide to take another bite of the delicious tacos. My mother might not be tactful, but the woman _can_ cook. I look around to forget about it. _Mami_ has cleaned the place up nicely. Every single time one of the Pierces comes by, she makes such an effort. Unlike my dad, she's somehow intimidated by their piles of money. But it's like my mom expects them to eat out of golden bowls and silver plates. They really don't, they hate all those stereotypical prejudices about rich people.

"Why would you say that?" Bruce dryly asks, in reaction to my mother's comment.

I can tell he's not too interested, but this is his way of making an effort instead of being his normal, asocial self.

My mom swallows down her food and shrugs: "I don't know. I just wonder ..."

"Wonder?" I ask, sort of to get involved.

_Mami_ squeezes her eyes shortly and hesitates: "I wonder, as a mother, if you're absolutely sure about all of this. I mean, you never wanted a baby. You never wanted to get married. And since you're with Brittany, you want to start this family, tie the knot. And now you can't."

I'm offended: "We _can_, _Mami_. There are a million ways for two women to have -"

But I stop in the middle of my sentence and put my hands up to keep myself from yelling at my mother.

"You know what, I'm not getting into this."

I pick up my fork and scrape some meat off of my plate. But let's face it: I can't help it, it's just who I am, so I throw it down again and accusingly point my finger at her.

"What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

My father, sitting on my left, dominantly puts his left hand on mine - he always told me you may never point a finger at your parents. I just get jumpy whenever someone questions Britt and me.

"Relax, Santana. I'm just making sure you'll make the right decision." she answers with a look on her face that's unfamiliar to me.

Everyone's nervous by now - and there's not a single person that dares to say a word. I get overwhelmed with disappointment. Disappointment that my mom seems to be unhappy about my life.

"Let me tell you about the time that Brittany wasn't in my life, _Mami_." I suddenly whisper.

It's been said too quiet, but everyone seems to have heard anyway. I notice how all the curious looks are aimed at me. Even Brittany seems to search for an answer.

"Every day I woke up in Atlanta, I wished I hadn't."

It's a very hard thing to say.

"And every second of every minute, I felt miserable and depressed and so un-fucking-happy that it choked me."

I pause for a second and swallow to get rid of that terrible feeling behind my memory. "Because I missed her. And I knew I hurt her, and there was nothing I could do about it."

I'm not even staring at a certain person, I'm just keeping my eye on the table. It's impressively scary to put the truth out there, but I am. Brittany has a soft eye on me, and her gentle face has faded away so far that only love and sympathetic pain is there to read. I chuckle nervously over some tragic memories from back then in an attempt to make them look random.

"I would work seventeen hours a day. And I was so freaking good at it. Because there was nothing else to keep me busy, you know. And when I'd finally get home, the first thing I'd do was go straight for the kitchen counter, because I kept the bottle of vodka there. And that bottle would be half empty by the time it was midnight."

My mother's dropped her fork on the table by now. She seems overwhelmed by my revelation.

"Why would you do something like that? Why would you drink so much? Every night?" she asks, trying to make a whole of the story.

I nod, ashamed about it, and lick my top lip.

"You don't get it, _Mami_. I know you love _Papá_ - I really do. But this thing with Brittany ... I ..."

I sigh deeply and put my hand on top of my girlfriend's. Words can't put it right. They never will.

"I don't think you understand how much she means to me. I've been fighting for us ever since we first kissed. And everyone has tried to take it away from me."

"That's not a reason to drink yourself to death." _Mami_ interrupts.

I look at her face and realize that it is indeed as I said: my mother can't understand. But the rest does. They notice how my face lights up whenever I mention the beautiful blonde's name.

"Never mind, _Mami_. It doesn't matter. It's ... It's fine. I really thought you'd understand what's going on between us by now, but ... All you need to know is that I love Brittany and ... we'll figure everything out."

Brittany's turned her hand around in mine and is squeezing my fingers together by now. My mom suddenly allows a soft smile to take over her face and I can't help but being curious.

"What? What is it?"

She shrugs and demonstrates how she was out to tease me. My left eyebrow curls all the way up. She's been testing me with every single comment she's made this evening. _That freaking ..._

"I was just checking, Santana. So you really, really want to marry this girl? You'd stand up against everything every terrible person in the world would say about you and still call her your wife?" she asks.

_My wife_. That actually sounds wonderful. Brittany and I are facing each other by now and we're sharing a secret smile. Who wouldn't?

"Proudly so."

Susan clacks her tongue and turns to my mom: "So you _have_ accepted the fact that your daughter is gay?"

We've all gathered that it was a joke, but Brittany's mom out for the details now.

_Mami_ nods, adding nothing to state it - like it's a simple fact ... Something that randomly happened a while ago.

"Are you okay? Calmed down a bit?" Brittany whispers in my ear.

I nod and put her at ease: "Yes, I've done some meditation and relaxation exercises before we left."

Brittany looks at me with severe doubt in her eyes, so I start to giggle almost immediately.

"I'm just kidding, this is my fourth glass of wine." I tell her, while pointing at the table.

Bruce's in a very social phase tonight, as it seems, and he pulls me right back to the conversation: "How did Santana tell you she was gay?"

I suddenly stop eating, something that rarely happens. Britt puts her hand on my lap to rub my upper leg. I love how she's always there for moral support.

"Well, her father knew before me. I think she was a bit afraid to tell her religious mother."

I smirk and remember that night when my dad found out, when my mom was drunk. Brittany was drunk as well, though - not exactly a shocker.

"My mom, Santana's Abuela is pretty anti-gay. She refuses to talk to Santana ever since she told her she was gay. But I always had this feeling that Brittany was more than just a regular friend to my girl. And one day, I walked into Santana's bedroom, and there they were."

I frown. I don't know this story.

A surprised Susan just lets it out: "You caught them in bed?"

_That's it, I'm emptying this glass of wine with one big draught. _Brittany just rolls her eyes.

My mother starts laughing out loud: "God no, they were _kissing_. Softly. For a second, I wondered if it was a thing between friends. Practicing for boys, you know. But no one kisses their friend in such a loving and caring way. I mean, I kissed Janice Hartman once, when we were fifteen and it wasn't anything like that. So I knew."

My jaw drops with embarrassment. How is it possible that we're having this conversation over some nice tacos? I always thought my dad told her - and she just learned to live with it.

Bruce chews a couple of times before he faces her: "And how did you react? Were you mad?"

"Mad because she didn't tell me sooner, yes." she nods.

"Mad because she fell in love with Brittany?"

_Mami_ shrugs.

"How can I? You've met the girl. If Santana hadn't, I probably would've!"

_Papi_ frowns amusingly, joining the rest of the company. And Brittany's smiling and blushing at the same time. Instead of being softened or amused, I just put my head on the table in shame. Britt's hand is quick to rub my back, sort of to comfort me.

"It's okay, babe." she tells me, sighing and processing.

* * *

**So, you guys liked it? ;) haha**


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